Torn
by AlElizabeth
Summary: Sequel to 'Frailty'. Dean is desperately searching for a way to cure Sam of his hallucinations but just how far will he go to save his brother and what price will he be willing to pay?
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One: Bravest Face

Dean hoped he was doing the right thing. He hoped he wasn't making things worse for his brother.

He turned up the radio as 'Trampled Underfoot' by Led Zeppelin came on and tapped his hands against the steering wheel in time with the music.

They had only been driving for two hours and were only now entering the city of Kalispell. It was very large and industrialized, commercialized; the opposite of tourist-oriented Whitefish. Dean peered at the numerous buildings of steel and metal, many painted a brilliant white that gleamed coldly in the sunlight.

Dean saw that Sam was also looking out the window but he was sure his brother wasn't seeing what he was.

"Why don't you try and rest, Sammy?" Dean suggested, his voice raised to be heard above the loud music.

Sam turned to Dean with sad eyes and didn't reply.

Don't push him, Dean thought, but hoped that Sam would eventually fall asleep with the motion of the car, as he had done so often when he was a kid.

The trip to Lawrence would normally take a day but Dean planned to take it slow. There was no way Sam could spend twenty-four hours straight in a car, and heck, even Dean wasn't too keen on the prospect.

Dean had it all figured out though- drive for a few hours and then take a break at a rest area before heading out again. Pick motels which were mostly deserted in case Sam had nightmares and eat take-out food, no going to sit-in restaurants- and they'd arrive in Kansas in a few days.

We can do this, Dean thought, easy as pie. Just gotta be careful, take the proper precautions and everything will be fine.

Dean was not only worried about Sam having a hallucination in public but he also was aware that the Leviathans were still out there. He and Sam just had to keep a low profile and not draw attention to themselves.

Dean looked over to see Sam was still staring out the window like the passing buildings were the most interesting things the kid had ever seen.

The eldest Winchester brother sighed and turned up the radio even louder.

_SPN_

"Going on a road trip, Sammy?" Lucifer asked.

Sam didn't turn around to face the Devil sitting in the back seat. He didn't want to let Dean know Lucifer was there.

"Go away," Sam muttered under his breath.

It's not real, it's not real, it's not real, Sam though furiously and nearly pressed his nose against the passenger's side window as though the sight of the factories and shops and pedestrians outside would ground him.

"Where are we going?" Lucifer wondered and Sam looked back.

The Devil was lounging with his back against the door and his legs up on the bench seat. He was flipping through a discarded NSRA 'StreetScene' magazine that the car's previous owner had forgotten about.

"Missouri," Sam answered and looked away when he saw that his brother was peered at him with a concerned look on his face.

This seemed to grab Lucifer's attention and he sat up, leaning forward, setting the magazine aside.

"Why?" he asked, head cocked slightly to the side.

Sam shook his head and didn't answer.

"Maybe big brother's finally gotten tired of looking after you, Sammy. Maybe he got tired of _you_," Lucifer informed Sam.

"No," Sam argued, "Dean said he'd never leave me."

"Don't be so naïve, Sam," Lucifer chastised.

Sam frowned and looked back again, "What… what do you know?"

Lucifer smiled.

"It's obvious, isn't it? Dean's doing the only thing he knows will get you out of the way for good," Lucifer explained, "He's going to have you committed."

Sam's mouth gaped open in shock. He remembered Dean saying that they were going somewhere because he had an idea that should fix him- he couldn't mean a hospital, could he? Sam thought that Dean had promised never to leave him.

"Just think about it," Lucifer continued, "No more Dean, just you and me."

Sam did think about it. He thought about being trapped in some asylum where people thought he was crazy. He thought about being stuffed full of medications that wouldn't work. He thought about Lucifer always being there, like a malignant shadow that never left because Dean had given up on him.

Sam gave a watery gasp and Dean looked at him, saw tears beginning to overflow and instantly pulled the car over to the side.

"Sam, hey, Sammy what's wrong?" Dean reached out to take hold of his brother's hand but Sam snatched his arm away and glared at him.

Lucifer chuckled, enjoying the rift he'd caused between the brothers.

"Don't do that!" Sam snapped.

"Do what?" Dean asked, completely oblivious to Sam's conversation with the Devil. He had heard Sam muttering to himself for the past couple of minutes, peering into the backseat but Dean had ignored it since Sam didn't appear particularly distressed.

"Don't act like everything is going to okay and that I'm going to get better 'cause I know exactly what you're planning to do! I know where you're planning on taking me!" Sam accused and Dean sat back, baffled.

"Sam, I have no idea what you're talking about," Dean confessed and then he looked at the rearview mirror which afforded a glimpse of the backseat as though he too could see Lucifer.

"I've told you before: Don't listen to that douchebag, he's lying," Dean said, knowing what must have caused Sam's outburst.

"No Dean, you're the one who's lying," Sam answered and fumbled with the door handle.

Dean watched as Sam opened the door but didn't move to get out of the car.

"What's in Missouri?" Sam asked without looking at Dean.

"What's in… wait, what?" Dean was confused now.

"That's where we're going, like you said: Missouri. So what's there? A mental hospital? Somewhere you can stash me because you don't want me around anymore?" Sam said, his voice devoid of anger now just sounded sad.

Dean blinked at his brother for a second and then he laughed.

"Don't laugh at me!" Sam snarled, "It's not funny!"

Dean sobered up, "No, I'm not laughing at you… I'm laughing at me 'cause I'm a moron."

Sam stared to his brother, now it was his turn to be confused.

"I said Missouri but I didn't mean the state… I meant Missouri Mosley, you remember her? The psychic who helped us out with the poltergeist in our old house?" Dean answered, no longer in the mood to laugh.

"Missouri… Mosley," Sam said slowly and he heard Lucifer growl angrily from the backseat.

"Yeah, Sam," Dean confirmed. He should have been more specific. God, he really was an idiot sometimes.

"This doesn't change anything, Sammy," Lucifer said, "No matter what you do, I'm never leaving you."

Sam ignored the Devil and closed the door quietly. He felt sheepish and stupid that he'd actually listened to and believed Lucifer.

"What do you say we take a little break at the next rest stop we see, stretch our legs, and get some fresh air?" Dean asked as he pulled the car back onto the road.

"Okay," Sam said softly.

Trust Dean, trust Dean, trust Dean, trust Dean, Sam thought and dared to peek into the back to find that Lucifer had disappeared.

Sam slumped in his seat with relief. Everything was going to be okay because he knew that Dean wasn't going to leave him.

_SPN_

Dean was exhausted by the time they stopped for the night. It had been a long day- after he had explained to Sam that they were going to Kansas and not Missouri, that Sam was in no danger of being taken to a hospital- Sam had been very quiet.

The kid barely said two words for the rest of the day and that worried Dean. At least now they could rest and regroup. They had made it to Billings and had pulled into a road-side motel that had no cars in its parking lot except for that of the owner.

The main office and rooms were made to look like old-fashioned log cabins, kind of like Rufus' back in Whitefish.

The elderly man at the desk hadn't questioned Dean when he asked for the cabin the farthest from the road.

"Like yer peace 'n quiet, do ya?" he asked in a wheezy voice.

"Yeah," Dean nodded; peace and quiet, right.

Sam had been asleep when they pulled in and Dean didn't bother to wake him when got the room key- he'd be gone for a minute anyway- and was still unconscious when he returned and drove down the unpaved path to their cabin.

Dean parked the car and ever so gently put a hand on his brother's shoulder, "Sammy, wake up."

Sam sat up abruptly and blinked at his brother.

"We've stopped for the night," Dean said and Sam stepped out of the car.

Dean stretched and felt his back protest the movement. He was getting too old for driving all day.

Both boys grabbed their duffle bags from the trunk of the car and Dean unlocked the door to their cabin.

Dean had to admit that it wasn't too bad looking: it was a one-room with wooden floorboards and cream-coloured walls, green and brown and grey rugs covered the floor, a small gas-burning fireplace in one corner, a wooden table and chairs in another, a bar fridge and two beds with clean white sheets. A tiny bathroom off to the left contained a small bathtub and a sink and toilet squished side by side.

The thing that annoyed Dean though, was that the old-fashioned heater was cranked up to the highest setting and it made the room stiflingly hot.

Dean set his duffle down on the bed closest to the door and crossed to room to turn off the heater.

"You'd think it was the middle of December," he muttered and turned to look at his brother.

Sam was wringing his hands together nervously and had not moved from the doorway.

Dean stepped forward to his younger brother and took a hold of his wrist gently.

"S'okay Sam," Dean coaxed, "Just relax, that's it."

Dean had Sam sit on the bed and dug around in his duffle bag before pulling out a bottle of water and handing it over to his sibling.

Sam took the bottle gratefully and took a few sips.

"Wish they had a TV," Dean muttered as he realized that not only was there no television set. The radio and telephone usually so common in motels were also absent.

"Guess they want you to get away from all that technology," Sam answered, surprising Dean slightly.

Dean grinned and nodded, "Could be worse I suppose… they didn't have to put in a beer fridge!"

Sam smiled politely at Dean's joke but it fell somewhat flat. Dean had stocked up on bottled water and juice boxes when they had gone through Butte. Beer was the last thing on Dean's mind when he had to do all of the driving and keep his mind sharp in case his brother needed him.

Dean yawned, covering his mouth with his fist. He could really use a long nap but he didn't want to go to sleep before Sam.

"Is it just me or is it getting hotter in here?" he asked his brother as sweat beaded on his brow and upper lip.

Dean moved away from the bed and crossed the room again to the heater. The stupid thing was still on, pumping warm air into the already unnecessarily arid room.

"Damn thing's broken, I think," Dean grumbled and turned the heater off once again.

Dean decided to forgo a shower and look after his brother's needs instead.

He picked up Sam's duffle bag and grabbed an old blue t-shirt and a pair of grey jogging pants from the pile of clothes he'd stuffed into it just before leaving Rufus' place.

"Bathroom," Dean held out the clothes to his brother and Sam took them.

Dean waited while Sam complied and closed to door after himself. He heard the shower turn on and thanked whichever god was listening that Sam was still lucid enough to take care of his own personal hygiene.

_W_

Almost thirty minutes later the water turned off and Dean was startled awake. He had sat down on his bed to wait for Sam and had fallen asleep unintentionally.

Gotta remember to drink lots of coffee, Dean thought, gotta stay awake for Sam.

Sam stepped out of the bathroom in his t-shirt and joggers, his damp hair hanging lank around his face and Dean couldn't help but notice that it almost reached the kid's shoulders.

Memo to me: Get Sam to cut his hair when all this is over, Dean thought.

"Feeling better now?" he asked and Sam nodded with a slight smile. No matter how shitty either of them felt, a nice long shower always seemed to take the edge off, at least if only for a little while.

Dean ran a hand through his short-cropped hair and eyed the heater. It had remained silent for at least thirty-five minutes but now it rumbled to life and Dean sighed.

The eldest Winchester sized up the heater and kicked it with his booted foot once. The damn thing needed to learn who was boss around here.

The heater spluttered and chugged to a stop with a sigh. Dean smiled in satisfaction.

He grabbed his duffle bag off the bed and headed to the bathroom, leaving the door open a crack as he brushed his teeth and took a piss.

When Dean poked his head out to check on his brother he saw that Sam was lying in bed, atop the covers, fast asleep.

Dean sighed and stepped out of the bathroom, put his bag down at the foot of his own bed and turned out the overhead light, leaving both of them in darkness.

The eldest Winchester sat on the edge of his own bed and just listened to his brother's breathing.

_SPN_

Sam stared at the ceiling- his breathing shallow and rapid, his heart pounded painfully in his chest and a shiver ran up his spine even though the room was still unbearably warm.

He turned his head to the side and saw that Dean was slumped to his side, leaning against the headrest of his own bed, snoring softly.

Sam shivered again, more like a tremble this time, and closed his eyes; bit his lip to hold back the cry that fought to escape.

He rolled onto his side and curled his legs up, making himself into a tight ball.

Sam didn't react when he hear his brother stir.

"Sammy? You 'kay?" he heard Dean's voice ask, thick with sleep.

Sam didn't answer, pretending he was still asleep himself.

After a few minutes Sam heard the sound of his brother lying down. He breathed a sigh of relief. Dean didn't need to stay awake with him every time he had a nightmare, it wasn't fair to him and although Sam really, really wanted his brother right then, he told himself he could handle it on his own.

It had just been a nightmare and he knew that nightmares could not hurt him. Sam knew that, of course he did, but the memory itself was painful and tore at him, sweeping away all other thoughts within his mind and taking dominance. It was too powerful to be dismissed with the assertion that it wasn't real because it _had _been real. For one hundred and eighty years it had been Sam's reality. That was what made it so terrible, Sam couldn't escape Hell even in his sleep; it followed him even into his subconscious mind.

Sam let out a quiet groan and heard his brother move again. This time Dean actually stood up and came around to the side of the bed.

Sam opened his eyes and saw his brother's silhouette looming over him in the darkened room.

Sam was determined not to show his brother his fear- it was a little too late for that but he didn't care- and spoke, "m'okay".

Dean didn't say anything but Sam saw his head bob in the gloom and he moved away, back to his own bed.

Sam continued to keep his eyes open- he did not want to fall asleep again- and waited for the slow coming of morning.

_SPN_

Dean sipped at his take-out coffee and maneuvered the car down the sleepy early-morning streets of Billings.

It was a little after six a.m. and both boys were more or less ready for a long day of driving.

Sam had fallen asleep again before they had hit the breakfast place and instead of waking him, Dean had just gotten his brother a decaf coffee and a bagel because the last thing they needed was for Sam to be hopped-up on caffeine.

Dean wanted to make it to at least Casper, Wyoming and if they were lucky stop in Fort Collins, Colorado. He grimaced at the thought of driving all that way but Dean knew it was for Sammy and he could suck it up and get on with it to help his brother.

Dean turned on the radio, if only for some background noise, and smiled when Metallica's 'Ride the Lightning' came on. He fought the habit of turning the radio up to the highest volume and settled for a dull roar.

With a quick glance at his still-sleeping brother, Dean put Billings in their rearview mirror and headed towards Wyoming with high hopes.

**1. Chapter title comes from a song by Rush of the same name.**

**2. Thanks so much to SPN Mum, lizziemarie0529 and sarah for reviewing the final chapter of **_**Frailty**_**.**

**3. Thanks to everyone who alerted and favourited **_**Frailty**_**.**


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two: Pilgrimage 

This is it, Dean thought; this is the be-all and end-all. Despite how many times he told himself that if Missouri couldn't help they'd find another way, Dean knew it was futile.

They were out of friends and they were out of options. There was no going back.

Dean peered at his brother and prayed that somehow Missouri would be able to help him.

Sam was staring as though transfixed at the ribbon of grey road before them, his right thumb unconsciously pressing the scar on his left palm.

"You want to take a break?" Dean asked his brother and Sam shrugged.

Dean sighed and decided to stop at the next rest area they came to.

He calculated that they were about forty or so minutes away from Casper, Wyoming.

Dean turned on the radio and switched through the stations, trying to find something reasonable to listen to.

"Damn, nothing's on when you want it," Dean grumbled and turned the radio off. He hated the silence but it was better than Justin Bieber or Ke$ha.

Sam glanced at his brother but said nothing.

"Fine, give me the silent treatment," Dean muttered too quietly for his brother to hear.

"Dean, can we get something to eat?" Sam spoke up and Dean stared at him.

"Y-You're actually hungry?" Dean blinked and smiled as Sam nodded.

"Of course," Dean said, "Next place we see, we'll get something."

Maybe this was a sign that Sam was getting better! For weeks he had not had the slightest appetite and now he was actually asking for food!

Don't get your hopes up Dean, he suddenly thought, the kid's not been eating a lot for a while so yeah, of course he'd be hungry. Don't be disappointed when he refuses dinner.  
I'll take what I can get, Dean concluded, and be content with that.

_W_

Dean had been right. Sam ate a little bit of the sandwich he'd bought for him and then didn't eat again for the rest of the day.

At least now they were closer to Lawrence than they had been- they had just passed through Casper, Wyoming- and were now making a beeline to Fort Collins, Colorado.

Please, please let's make it in one piece, Dean prayed silently.

Sam looked over at his brother sleepily, stifling a yawn with his fist and blinked.

"We'll stop soon Sammy," Dean assured his brother.

"S'okay D'n," Sam muttered and laid his head against the passenger window, already out of it.

Dean sighed and wiped a hand over his face, rubbing at his eyes with his knuckles, feeling as though his nerves were fried.

He just wished Sam would get better. Was that too much to ask? Apparently it was because no matter how many times Dean prayed, yes _actually_ prayed that Sam would get over this, no one listened.

He hoped that Missouri could help Sam- if not stop the hallucinations and nightmares than at least do _something _to make his brother's life just a little bit bearable- and if not, well, Dean couldn't help but think of his father's last words to him.

_If you can't save Sam than you have to kill him._

Dean shook his head and scratched the back of his neck. It wouldn't come to that. It wouldn't. Dean would take care of Sam if Missouri couldn't help them and that was all there was to it.

_SPN_

The sudden stop jolted Sam awake. He jumped in surprise and looked around. It was dark outside and the interior of the car was dimly lit by the radio and gauge lights on the dashboard. The car began to move again- they'd only been idling at a stop sign.

Sam rubbed his eyes with his knuckles and peered at his brother's face illuminated by the greenish glow of the indicator lights.

"Where are we?" he asked sleepily.

Dean glanced over at Sam, "Just about to enter Fort Collins, Sammy."

Sam nodded, "How long was I asleep?"

"Few hours… you looked like you needed the rest," Dean informed him. That was always Dean's answer for letting Sam alone- you looked like you needed to rest- and although Sam was grateful, he didn't want to spend his life sleeping just because Dean thought he needed to.

Sam's gaze shifted to his lap and his pressed his right thumb down on his left palm, more out of habit now than anything and blinked away the dredges of the dream he'd just had. It had been strange and Sam just wanted to forget about it.

He'd dreamed he'd been wandering down a long hallway, almost like one in a high school- there had even been lockers along the walls, painted steel grey- and he'd been looking for someone. Sam didn't know who he was looking for but he knew it was important to find this person. It had been dark and cold- the overhead lights were out and there was frost edging the windows in the classroom doors- and he shivered uncontrollably. As he wandered seemingly aimlessly through the hallways that never changed Sam knew he was getting close to finding that important person… but the car's sudden stop had woken him up before he could finish the dream.

Now Sam's brow furrowed as he tried to figure out the strange dream. It had been years since he'd been in high school and he hadn't noticed any decorations or signs that would point to a specific one. And who had he been looking for? Why had it been so important for Sam to find them?

Oh well, Sam sighed, it was just a dream and he had more pressing things to worry about.

Dean glanced over at his brother again and decided to stop at the next motel they saw.

He wondered if Sam would fall asleep again, the kid actually looked pretty aware right now and maybe he'd stay awake for an hour or so. Dean wasn't so sure all that sleep was good for his brother anyway.

_W_

Sam was relieved when Dean pulled the Camero into the parking lot of a quiet motel with a light brick façade and flowerpots in the windows.

"I'll just be a second, Sammy," Dean told him and left the car, the keys still in the ignition.

Sam peered out the window and counted the half dozen cars in the lot. He started when the driver's side door opened and Dean slid into his seat.

"Got us a room on the end," his brother said and drove slowly to the far end of the parking lot.

"'Kay," Sam muttered and nodded even though Dean wasn't paying attention.

Dean parked the car right in front of their room and got out, stretching as he did so. Sam unfolded himself stiffly from his own seat. They grabbed their bags from the trunk and stepped up onto the curb. It was slightly cool in Fort Collins and Sam's jacket didn't offer much protection from the chill breeze.

"Hopefully this room has a heater," Sam joked and Dean smiled as though he had done something amazing. Who knew? Maybe he had.

Dean unlocked the scuffed, white motel room door and stepped inside first. Sam thought Dean was checking out the place to make sure it was safe and then he turned and smiled, "ain't nobody here but us chickens."

Sam shook his head and stepped inside and looked around the room- the carpet was dark brown with beige and caramel-coloured swirls, the walls were painted a neutral cream and the bed frames were honey-stained pine full of scratches and nicks, the bedclothes were yellow, brown and black covering white sheets.

A chest of drawers took up one wall with a closet squished in beside the door. A table and two chairs took up one corner. There was sink, a tiny shower stall and toilet crammed into the cubicle-sized bathroom.

"This is the halfway point, Sammy," Dean set his duffle bag on the bed closest to the door.

"Wanna get to Lawrence tomorrow," he continued, "It'll be a lot of driving but I think we can do it."

Dean spoke as if he was asking Sam for permission to drive the final stretch in one day.

"Whatever you think is best, Dean," Sam answered noncommittally.

Dean gave his brother a worried look and didn't reply.

Sam sat on the end of his own bed and sighed, running a hand through his hair that could use a good washing and wished they could just go back to Whitefish.

"Sammy? You okay? You're a little pale," Dean said and stood, making his way over to his brother.

"Don't Dean… 'M fine," Sam held a hand out to stop his brother's progress and squeezed his eyes shut.

"Don't think so," Dean said and Sam felt the bed shift as his brother sat down beside him.

Sam looked up and blinked. What was that? He'd suddenly felt… funny. He didn't know how to explain it. One minute he had been fine- well as fine as could be expected- and the next it was as though he was… fading… he didn't know exactly how to describe it.

Dean put an arm around his shoulder and hugged Sam to his side like he'd done when they were kids. Sam leaned into his brother unabashedly and took a minute to gather himself.

"You want something to drink?" Dean asked and after a moment's hesitation, Sam nodded.

"Water," he told his brother as Dean stood and began walking to the door.

Dean left the motel door open as he rummaged around in the trunk of the car for a bottle of water- he wanted to hear if Sammy was in trouble and he wanted Sammy to know he was close by.

Sam watched his brother through the open doorway and wrapped his arms around his middle against the cold breeze that was coming in.

Dean shut the truck with a _clunk! _that made Sam jump and came back inside, closing the room door with his foot. Sam could tell by his brother's body language that Dean was more relaxed than he had been since beginning this trip.

"Got you some water," Dean announced and handed his brother the bottle, "And I got a deck of cards in case you're interested."

Sam smiled. Dean was definitely trying to remain calm and collected; maybe he was glad they only had one more day of driving before they arrived in Lawrence.

Sam gulped down some of the cold water and Dean sprawled out on his back on his bed, "Man, I could sleep 'til noon."

Dean's eyes were open and Sam knew he wouldn't likely go to sleep anytime soon.

"Why don't you rest, Dean?" Sam said, "I'll be fine."

Dean sat up and shook his head, "What if you have a hallucination? What if _you _fall asleep and have a nightmare?"

"I'm not a little kid, Dean," Sam answered stubbornly, "I can… I can handle it."

Dean nodded, "Uh huh, like you handled it before when you sliced open your own hand?"

Sam's shoulders sagged just a little, "Doesn't matter… won't help now anyway."

Dean sighed and wiped a hand over his face. He had to admit that he was exhausted- his eyes burned from staring at blacktop all day, his back was cramped from sitting too long- despite the frequent stops so they could both stretch their legs and so Sam didn't feel too cooped-up.

"Okay, but Sam, you have to promise to wake me up if anything happens- got it?" Dean spoke seriously and his brother nodded. Dean needed the rest just as much as he did and Sam didn't like how he'd wake in the middle of the night the instant Sam himself so much as muttered in his sleep.

Dean had to take care of himself too.

"I promise," Sam nodded and watched as his brother kicked off his boots and climbed under the bed sheets, fully clothed and snoring like a logger within seconds.

Sam stood and grabbed the deck of cards off Dean's bed and made his way to the table, thinking of playing a few rounds of Solitaire for a while.

_SPN_

_Click. _

Dean jumped up when he heard the unmistakable sound of a gun's hammer being pulled back. He was staring right into the mouth of a gun- a gun he recognized as the one from his duffle bag- and behind the weapon was his brother.

"Sammy? What're you doing?" Dean asked cautiously and moved slowly, sitting up against the bed's headboard and raising his hands to show he was harmless.

Sam didn't reply and Dean peered into his brother's face to try and discern Sam's state of mind.

Dean barely held back a gasp when he saw nothing. Well, not nothing- Sam's face was contorted in unbridled rage but his green eyes were empty, soulless.

"What are you doing here?" Dean snapped, angry himself but still well aware of whom was holding a gun to his face.

"You couldn't have left well enough alone, could you?" Soulless Sam snarled at Dean.

"Oh sure, everything was going fucking fantastic with you around!" Dean snarled back, sarcastically.

"I was a good hunter wasn't I? I killed tons of monsters before you showed up," Soulless Sam said.

"I _showed up? _You were the one who materialized in my house uninvited!" Dean countered.

Sam looked confused, "You weren't happy to see me?"

Dean sighed and eyed the gun, not sure if his, uh, brother's split personality still planned on shooting him, "Not you, dipshit! I thought you were Sam."

"I am Sam," Soulless Sam returned.

Dean shook his head and almost laughed, "Not by a long shot."

Sam growled deep in his throat, "You should remember which one of us is holding the gun, Dean."

Dean raised an eyebrow, "Go ahead then, shoot me. See how far you get."

Soulless Sam smirked and released the safety but still did not shoot.

"You know, I really thought you were gone for good when Death made up his wall," Dean spoke up almost conversationally.

"HA!" Sam barked a laugh and stared haughtily at Dean, "I never left, Dean. I was always there, waiting and watching."

That was creepy. Dean didn't react though and thought that if he could keep the asshole talking than maybe; just maybe Sammy would come back.

As long as Dean didn't get himself shot.

"Sure you were a good hunter… too good," Dean continued, "You didn't care who got hurt as long as you got the monster. But that's not how it works-"

Soulless Sam smiled, "He who fights with monsters might take care lest thereby he become a monster."

The guy was fucking with him, Dean knew but as long as he just did that and didn't get down to filling Dean full of silver, then that was fine by him.

"Thanks to your pet angel breaking down Death's handiwork, I was able to come back," Soulless Sam said with a smirk, "And I almost won."

Dean didn't really know what he was talking about but he kept his mouth shut, counting the minutes Soulless Sam stayed and his Sammy was nowhere in sight.

Dean examined his brother's body language and saw that he was completely at ease- he wasn't tense at all, despite the anger that seemed to radiate off him in waves- and wondered how much longer Soulless Sam would remain at the forefront.

"Little Sammy's growing weaker," this wasn't news to Dean, "And I am growing stronger."

Shit, Dean thought. Now they _really_ needed Missouri to fix this.

Dean scoffed, "I'd like to see you try and win. Sam's strong, he'll beat you."

Now it was Soulless Sam's turn to be derisive, "You really believe so? You think too much of Sammy. I'm not the only one here, you know."

Dean didn't know. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously at Soulless Sam. He knew that his brother's brain had been scrambled by Cas tearing down the wall but he'd thought Sam's alter ego was long gone- and he certainly hadn't been prepared to believe there was another personality in there. What if this one was worse than Soulless Sam? How the fuck could such a thing even happen? He wanted someone, preferably Missouri Mosley, to explain all this fucked up psychological shit to him.

"Unfortunately, you won't be around to see it," Soulless Sam said with mock sadness, "Goodbye, Dean."

Before his brother's evil alter ego could shoot him, Dean leaped up and grabbed Sam's arm, trying to get the gun away from him and keep himself out of harm's way at the same time.

The gun went off with a deafening _bang _but Dean resisted the instinct to cringe away and continued fighting for the weapon. Soulless Sam growled in his throat and grinned sardonically, baring teeth and punched Dean in the face with his free hand.

Dean stumbled back with the force of the blow and heard Soulless Sam cock the gun again.

"Don't-" Dean started to say but before he could get the rest of the words out his brother's eyes rolled up and he dropped to the floor as if he had fainted.

Dean didn't move for a moment. Maybe it was some kind of a trick.

When he heard Sam groan, though, Dean was instantly by his side. He grabbed the gun from Sam's limp fingers and put the safety back on- and tucked the weapon into the waistband at the back of his own jeans.

Dean grabbed Sam's hand reassuringly as his brother's eyes fluttered open- unfocused and dark- and knew that his Sammy was back.

"D'n?" Sam whispered and Dean smiled down at his brother.

"You kind of zoned out on me for a minute… you fainted like a girl," there was no way that Dean was going to tell Sam what had really happened- it would only scare the kid.

Dean helped his brother sit up, "How do you feel?"

"I… ah… tired, really tired… and m'head hurts," Sam answered, still shaken and Dean nodded in sympathy.

He got his younger brother up and sitting on one of the beds, his back against the headboard. Dean retrieved the bottle of water Sam was drinking from earlier and offered it to him.

"Thanks," Sam muttered and finished the bottle's contents in one go- more than half the water remained before he guzzled it down.

"More?" Sam asked. Dean bobs his head but doesn't move to get another bottle from the car.

"What do you say we get out of here? Drive the rest of the way to Lawrence tonight," he asked his younger brother and Sam looked at him curiously.

"But we just got here," Sam answered slowly.

"I'm feeling pretty good after my power-nap and if we drive all night we should make it to Missouri's in time for breakfast," Dean answered, downplaying his reason for wanted to get to Lawrence by the morning.

Dean smiled. The sooner we get to Missouri, the sooner she can fix this.

Cleaning up their gear, Dean put everything into the trunk of the car before going back for Sam. His brother was still shaky but refused assistance into the car. Instead of taking shotgun as usual, Dean noticed his brother climbed into the back, lying down on the bench seat.

From the rearview mirror Dean saw that his brother was scrunched up- his long legs curled up nearly to his chest- and knew he had to uncomfortable.

Dean sighed and pulled out of the parking lot of the motel without checking out, well aware of the gun he'd slipped back into his duffle bag as he packed the trunk and knew that if Soulless Sam appeared again, the asshole wouldn't waste time chatting and just waste him.

**1. Chapter title comes from a R.E.M. song of the same title.**

**2. Thanks to SPN Mum, missingmikey, lizziemarie0529, Samstruck, LeighAnnWallace for reviewing.**

**3. Thanks to everyone who alerted or favourited.**

**4. Please review! I love hearing from you guys!**


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three: The Clairvoyant

Dean's eyes felt gritty and burned with exhaustion but he forced himself to keep them open, despite their plea for sleep. He certainly wasn't going to check into another motel, not tonight, and he wasn't about to pull onto the shoulder of the road for a catnap.

The sense of urgency was overwhelming- Dean needed to get Sammy some kind of help- and that only focused his determination to make it to Lawrence by the morning hours.

Dean grunted in approval as they passed a green and white sign proclaiming Denver, Colorado was only thirty-five miles away.

He looked at the rearview mirror to check on his brother- Sam still lay curled up in the fetal position, looking decidedly uncomfortable with his knees scrunched up as they were- Dean noticed that Sam had his hands over his face but his breathing seemed easy.

Kid must have fallen asleep, Dean thought; that would be nice.

He stifled a yawn and fumbled with the radio dial.

'Going Down The Road Feeling Bad' by the Grateful Dead blared from the speakers and Dean quickly turned the music down a few notches so he wouldn't wake up his brother.

He started to tap his hands against the steering wheel but soon Dean began to sing under his breath, "goin' where the water tastes like wine, goin' where the water tastes like wine. I don't want to be treated this awa-"

"DEAN!"

Dean jumped and almost lost control of the Camero before pulling onto the side of the road- thankful there were no other cars on the highway at this time of night- and twisted to see Sam practically convulsing on the backseat.

"Shit," Dean muttered and unbuckled, pulling himself through the gap in the front bucket seats and wedging himself into the back with his brother.

Sam was still on the seat- thank God he hadn't slipped to the floor- and Dean managed to pick up his brother's head and lay it on his lap. Sam's eyes were open but they did not see him. The pupils were large and round; the irises, thin green circles.

Hallucination, then; Dean figured and took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down as his brother's cries continued.

Sam's body twitched violently and beads of sweat coated his face, he gasped for breath as if he couldn't get enough oxygen.

"Shh, its okay Sammy, I'm here," Dean soothed, "I'm right here."

He brushed sweat-soaked bangs away from his brother's face and took hold of one of Sam's flailing hands, gave it a reassuring squeeze and frowned when nothing changed.

Dean sucked in a breath. He was uncomfortable- the Camero's backseat was not made for two fully grown men to sprawl in- but Dean thought about how much more uncomfortable his brother was, crammed into the tiny space.

Dean opened the door at his side and scooted over to the edge of the seat, trying to give Sam a little more room.

"Sammy, hey Sammy," Dean whispered and gripped his brother's hand tighter, wishing that Sam would squeeze back.

"D'n!" Sam's voice was filled with terror and desperation and Dean felt his heart break.

Dean continued to speak softly to his brother, hoping that his words would bring Sam back.

Finally, after what seemed like hours to Dean, Sam grew still, his body tense but at least he was no longer convulsing.

"It's okay, Sammy," Dean soothed, "you're okay."

Sam's eyes slid closed halfway and his body went lax. Dean leaned his head back and took a few minutes to get his own breath back- it felt as if he'd been holding it since Sam had shouted his name from the backseat- and then looked down to check his brother.

The rise and fall of Sam's chest was rapid and shallow and he trembled slightly as though from weakness. Dean knew that hallucinations took a lot out of his brother and it would be hours before Sam was fully recovered.

"D-D'n?" Sam's voice alerted his brother and Dean looked down anxiously.

"Hey, Sammy," Dean tried to smile, "How're you feeling?"

Sam's brow furrowed but he didn't answer.

Dean didn't let go of his brother's hand, "Let's get you up."

He carefully pushed his brother into a sitting position- Sam slumped forward, elbows on his knees- and released his hand.

"Do you want some water or juice?" Dean asked and Sam shook his head weakly.

"Why don't you sit in the front, eh?" Dean asked; he wanted to keep a better eye on his brother.

"Uh…'kay," Sam whispered but made no move to get up.

"C'mon Sammy," Dean exited the car and stood up, holding a hand out to his brother.

Sam acted like he couldn't hear him and Dean sighed.

"Okay, well, we're not very far from Denver," Dean spoke up, "We still have a long way to go but I promise we'll be at Missouri's in the morning."

Dean closed the door softly and walked around the car to slip back into the front seat- he turned off the radio and moved the rearview mirror so he had could keep a better eye on Sammy- and started down the road once again.

_W_

The Camero sped up as the Winchesters crossed into Manhattan, Kansas.

"We're almost there, Sammy," Dean said to his silent brother. Sam had not spoken at all since the hallucination and remained with his head down.

C'mon Sam, hang in there, Dean begged silently, at least until we get to Missouri's.

The sky was already growing lighter on the horizon- no longer pitch black but a purple colour and the stars were beginning to fade- and Dean knew that they'd make it by the time the sun rose.

Dean needed to stop- he couldn't go much farther without a little rest- even if it was only for a take-out coffee and a breakfast sandwich.

He peered out the window as he drove through the deserted streets- it was only three a.m. but there _had _to be an open 24/7 diner or something.

There! Dean pulled a U-turn (illegal probably) and skidded the Camero into the lot of a diner that stated it was 'Open All Day- Every Day!'

"Sorry Sammy," Dean muttered, "Gotta refuel."

He didn't receive a response.

"C'mon inside with me for a moment," Dean opened his door and stepped around the front of the car and pulled open his brother's door.

Sam slid out slowly, moving like a sleepwalker. He stood up, one hand on the top of his door and the other reaching for his brother.

Dean grabbed Sam's hand without comment. His brother's fingers wrapped tightly around his hand and squeezed hard- Dean noticed Sam's hand was like ice.

"We won't be long, okay?" Dean promised, "Just wanna get something to eat and have a hot cup of coffee."

Sam nodded and bit his lip.

Dean grimaced slightly in sympathy for his brother, "It'll be alright, Sammy, I won't let anything happen to you." What Dean really meant was 'I won't let anyone in there say anything about you or they'll have wished they'd kept their traps shut'.

Sam smiled wanly and Dean took his hand from Sam's and moved it to his brother's upper arm, supporting.

"You look like you could use something to eat as well," Dean spoke up as he led his brother into the diner.

The restaurant was mostly empty- a couple of waitresses chatting by the counter and one very elderly man were the only occupants. Dean steered his brother to a booth at the back of the diner, shadowed because of a burnt-out light bulb above them and sat down across from Sam.

The tables were painted a dark brown, and scuffed and scratched from years of use; the floors displayed similar wear and tear. The walls were neutral beige with abstract pictures hung in gaudy frames. The seats of the chairs and booths were covered in dark green vinyl. There were menus already on the table.

The air smelled of greasy, deep-fried food and bitter, burnt coffee.

Dean peered at his brother across the table- in the dim lighting it was impossible, even for him at this close proximity, to tell that Sam was too pale to be well- and relaxed knowing that the waitress would likely notice nothing out of the ordinary.

Speaking of, one of the two young women who'd been gossiping about Ryan Gosling and Channing Tatum headed in their direction, a pad of paper in her hand.

"Can I get you two anything?" she asked.

"Uh, coffee and bacon and fried eggs for me," Dean said, "Eggs, over easy and bacon crispy."

"And for you?" the waitress turned to Sam.

"Pancakes," Dean answered for his brother, doubting Sam would eat very much, "And orange juice."

The waitress turned back to Dean, "Okay, coming right up."

Sam's head was getting lower and lower as they waited; it was almost on the table by the time the waitress returned with the coffee and juice. She peered at Sam with a concerned look.

"Just tired," Dean explained and waved a hand casually, "Long day of driving, you know."

Sam picked his head up and looked around as though he'd forgotten where he was.

When the waitress turned around Dean reached across the table to give Sam's wrist a comforting squeeze before pulling back his own hand.

Dean pushed the cup of juice closer to his brother, "Drink."

He picked up his own mug of coffee and sipped at it.

"Sam, you need to keep up your strength," Dean nodded at his brother, "I don't want you passing out from low blood sugar."

Sam picked up the glass in both hands and took a small sip from it, grimaced, and set it down again, "It's watery."

Dean chuckled and gulped some more coffee.

About ten minutes later the waitress returned with their food.

"More coffee or juice?" she asked and Dean shook his head, "No coffee but can we get some more orange juice- both of us."

The waitress nodded and left. Dean wolfed down his bacon and eggs- he was ravenous it seemed- and he felt more alert and aware after eating.

He watched as Sam drowned his pancakes in maple syrup and slowly cut them up.

"Are you planning on eating that or making a swimming pool out of it?" Dean asked as Sam mopped at the sticky mess with a piece of pancake.

Sam lifted his fork and put the chunk in his mouth, chewing as if he was eating something particularly nasty.

The waitress came back and took Dean's empty plate away- lifted an eyebrow at the lack of progress Sam had made- and then walked away.

Dean ordered more coffee as Sam slowly made his way through a quarter of his breakfast and then stopped.

"Done already?" Dean asked, knowing that there was no way his brother was full.

Sam nodded, "Yeah," and Dean motioned for the bill.

_SPN_

Sam sat low in the seat, the car vibrating beneath him and concentrated very hard on not being sick.

Sam's stomach roiled with nausea and he closed his eyes for a moment. His limbs trembled slightly and his head pounded with pain, his pulse throbbing in his temples.

"We're almost at Topeka, Sammy," Dean's voice informed Sam and he grimaced when the sound of it made his head hurt even more.

The sun was just peeking over the horizon, streaks of orange and pink colouring the dark sky. Dean had been right- in about two more hours they'd arrive in Lawrence.

All Sam wanted to do was curl up and sleep though; it was Dean who had wanted to leave Whitefish in the first place.

Maybe I can sleep when we get to Missouri's, Sam thought hopefully.

"How can you sleep, Sammy?" Lucifer's voice spoke up from the backseat, "You go to dreamland and you have nightmares, you stay awake and you get my wonderful company."

"Shut up," Sam muttered, "I'm not listening to you. You lie."

"Now Sam, when have I ever lied to you, hm?" Lucifer asked. Sam refused to look back.

"You're not real… you're a delusion, a hallucination," Sam said.

"When has that ever stopped me before?" Lucifer inquired, sounding amused.

Once we get to Missouri's she'll be able to help me, Sam told himself; Dean said so.

Lucifer laughed mockingly, "I told you before, Sam, I'm not going away, we'll always be together."

Sam groaned and he heard his brother call his name, "Sammy! Sam! You okay?"

"Uh… yeah… uh huh," Sam managed and gritted his teeth as the pain in his head became blinding.

"D'n!" was all Sam could say before he leaned forward suddenly and heaved, stomach releasing its contents all over the dashboard, the floor, his jeans and shoes.

_SPN_

Dean peered at his brother worriedly.

"We're almost there," he assured Sam. It had taken twenty minutes to get Sam and the car cleaned up after his brother blew chunks everywhere.

His brother had been terribly embarrassed, apologizing over and over to Dean, "Don't worry about it Sammy, at least it wasn't my baby."

Almost there, almost there, almost there- the words repeated themselves in Dean's mind as he continued to drive. The Camero's windows were open in an attempt to dissipate the smell of sick.

Sam was lying in the backseat again. He lay on his side, eyes wide and staring and he was as quiet as death.

"YES!" Dean shouted as they crossed the town line into Lawrence, startling Sam out of his trance.

"We made it, Sammy! We made it!" Dean told his brother and grinned.

They drove through downtown, passing diners and stores- heading toward the residential area of Lawrence.

Suddenly Dean remembered the last time they had been in Lawrence- they had both been in Stull Cemetery and Sam had leaped right into Lucifer's cage- and shook his head, trying to dispel the bad memories.

As they drove closer and closer to the suburbs of Lawrence, Dean began to have doubts.

What if Missouri's gone? What if she doesn't live in here anymore? What if she's dead?

No, Missouri will be here and she will help us! Dean gritted his teeth in determination.

They turned onto a tree-lined street with distinguished houses set back from the curb.

Dean saw Sam shift a little higher in his seat to peer at the houses as they passed. There were flourishing rosebushes and flowerbeds, musical wind-chimes swaying in the breeze, and dogs barking frantically from various backyards.

Dean remembered what Missouri's house looked like- he pulled up along the curb- and saw that the curtains were drawn and all appeared quiet.

He stepped out first, pausing briefly look around at his surroundings- pinpointing all the possible escape routes and checking for any suspicious persons- a habit from years of hunting.

Pleased that his brother was in no immediate danger in the tiny cul-de-sac, Dean walked around the car and opened the door for Sam.

"Are you feeling any better?" Dean asked as Sam's gripped the top of the door with white knuckles.

"Hmm… not sick so much," Sam muttered and Dean nodded. That was good enough for him.

Dean moved to take hold of his brother's arm but Sam shook his head. Dean shut the car door instead.

Please be here, please be here; Dean chanted silently as they made their way slowly up the path toward the butter yellow house with white trim.

They stepped up onto the porch- wood scuffed and stain faded from years of foot traffic- and Dean raised one fist to knock on the door, hoping with all his heart that Missouri would answer.

Both boys jumped- Sam more so than Dean- when the front door opened wide and there stood Missouri Mosley.

"Dean Winchester," the black psychic exclaimed without sounding all that surprised.

Dean's shoulders slumped in relief, "Thank God you're here."

**1. Chapter title comes from an Iron Maiden song of the name.**

**2. Thanks to d767468, missingmikey, Samstruck, SPN Mum, and LeighAnnWallace for reviewing.**

**3. Thanks to everyone who favourited or alerted.**

**4. Reviews = Love.**


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four: Shaking Off The Chains

Missouri looked behind Dean at his brother. The boy looked like death warmed over.

"Don't just stand there like vacuum salesmen, you two, come on inside!" Missouri exclaimed and Dean felt relief wash through him.

Once inside, Dean looked around and saw that nothing had changed a bit.

"You two go on into the living room and I'll be right there," Missouri was already bustling around in the kitchen.

Dean led Sam into the parlour and sat down beside his brother on the floral print couch. Dean sat close to Sam and put a comforting arm around his shoulders.

The Winchesters listened as the old black psychic worked, waiting patiently for her to enter the living room.

Dean looked up when Missouri shuffled into the room holding a tray with a white teapot and yellow cups. There was a pile of ginger snaps balancing precariously beside the pot of tea.

The psychic set the tray on the coffee table and poured the tea. Nobody spoke while Missouri preformed this nicety.

Dean leaned forward slightly to accept the cup and saucer Missouri held out to him, when his hands clasped around the cup, the psychic laid her hands on his.

"I'm sorry about your father, Dean. He was a good man," Missouri spoke softly, "And I'm sorry about all your friends."

"Thank you," Dean muttered. He didn't think he'd ever get used to that.

When Missouri poured tea for Sam, Dean took the offered cup and handed it to his brother.

"I know you boys didn't come here on a social call," Missouri said and sat back with her own drink.

"No, we, ah, well… we need your help," Dean explained poorly.

Missouri raised an eyebrow and waited.

Dean swallowed, "Sam's uh, he's been having hallucinations and some other stuff's been happening…"

"Dean," Sam spoke up and looked at his brother with a strange expression- a mix of concern and surprise and pain.

Missouri sat down her cup and crossed her arms over her ample bosom.

"And what do you expect me to do?" she asked sassily.

"Uh, we, I mean Sam needs you to do something to stop the hallucinations and the…" Dean muttered that last point, causing Missouri to raise an eyebrow at him.

"Speak up, boy! Didn't your Daddy teach you it's rude to mumble?" Missouri snapped but with no real heat in the words.

Dean's eyes slid to Sam without turning his head and sighed. There was no way he could tell the psychic about Sam's split personality thing without his brother finding out.

"Sam, drink your tea," Dean said and Sam looked at his brother and frowned.

Dean knew he was acting like his brother was a two-year-old but he couldn't let Sam know about his alter ego making an appearance. What Dean wanted was for Sam to fall asleep again. The kid slept on and off for hours and now when Dean really _needed_ Sam to be out cold, it just wasn't happening.

"What type of tea is this?" Dean asked conversationally, indicating his own cup.

"Peppermint," Missouri replied in a not-so-amused tone.

Good, Dean thought, no caffeine and it'll relax Sammy.

"Why don't you have some cookies, Dean? I made them myself," Missouri turned the tray around so that the biscuits were directly in front of the eldest Winchester.

The conversation lulled awkwardly. Sam drank his tea obediently and Dean wondered exactly why his brother didn't just tell him to shove it. Dean grabbed three cookies and munched them loudly to try and cut through the silence.

Missouri didn't say anything; she poured herself some more tea and regarded both boys with a concerned, curious expression.

Dean pointedly looked anywhere but at the psychic- he looked at the little porcelain and crystal figurines in the cabinet beside the chair Missouri sat in, he looked at the portraits sitting on the mantel place- but he would not look at her!

Dean couldn't help but smile when Sam's head rested against his shoulder and he turned to see his brother's eyes were nothing more than green slits. Dean plucked the empty cup from his brother's hands before it could end up on the floor.

Missouri tilted her head a little and set her own cup on the table.

"You were waitin' for that to happen," she whispered and Dean nodded.

"Help me with the dishes, Dean," Missouri stood and gathered up the cups and saucers.

Slowly, carefully, Dean moved so that his brother's back was resting against the back of the couch and followed Missouri into the kitchen.

The psychic turned on Dean, "So, boy, what's wrong with your brother?"

"It's a long story," Dean sighed and rubbed his face with both hands.

"I've got time," Missouri said and put her hands on her hips.

Dean looked at the psychic skeptically, "I thought you were supposed to know all this already."

"Boy, I may be psychic but the answers don't just drop down from Heaven!" Missouri whispered sharply.

Dean ducked his head, slightly embarrassed, "What do you need to do?"

Missouri's expression softened, "Let me see your brother."

Dean nodded nervously and they went into the living room again. Sam had slid down the couch cushions and was now lying on his side, his feet still on the floor.

"Doesn't look very comfortable," Dean muttered and Missouri _tsk_ed.

The psychic sat down beside Sam and put his head in her lap. She brushed his bangs away from his brow but Sam did not stir. Dean sat down heavily in the chair Missouri had been sitting in. Dean summarized what had happened to cause Sam to end up in his current state; Dean told Missouri about Sam's plunge into Hell, about the wall and its demolition.

"Can you help him?" Dean whispered.

"Shhh," Missouri said and Dean wasn't sure if it was directed at him or his brother.

Dean watched silently, biting his lip as Missouri placed her hands on either side of his brother's face.

The psychic closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Dean didn't dare to breathe.

Missouri's forehead wrinkled and her mouth turned down in a frown. Dean edged forward in his seat, waiting for something to happen.

Suddenly the woman drew back her hands with a gasp. Missouri placed both hands over her heart, her eyes wide.

"What is it?" Dean asked anxiously.

"Everything the boy's been through," Missouri whispered, her voice sounding shaky, "Oh, the poor soul."

Dean didn't say anything as Missouri stood up and put her hands against her face.

The psychic's eyes were dark and wet with tears. Dean lowered his head, "Sammy's been through Hell."

"I know," Missouri said very quietly, "I saw it."

Dean nodded- of course she would and for a moment he wished Missouri didn't have to know about Sam's eighteen months of torture- and stood, crossing the living room to his brother and sat down on the couch beside him.

"He just can't get the memories out of his head," Dean whispered and tried to smooth down his brother's bangs- they had flopped over his forehead again- without success.

"He has hallucinations while he's awake and nightmares when he's asleep," Dean continued and peered over his shoulder at Missouri, his own hazel eyes pricking with tears.

Missouri approached the boys almost cautiously, "I saw, Dean. It was only a flash, as much as I could take, but I saw what happened to your brother since he fell."

Dean gulped; so she would probably know about Soulless Sam, then.

"What do you think I can do to help your brother?" Missouri asked.

"Please, anything you can do… I can't take it anymore…. Sammy can't take it," Dean begged, completely against his personality.

Missouri nodded thoughtfully, "I don't know if I can do anything for him, Dean."

"Don't say that, please, don't. We've come a long way and Sammy won't last much longer…" Dean said and felt tears well up in his eyes. He wiped them away quickly before they could overflow.

Missouri's expression turned sad, "Dean, I will do everything I can for your brother… but I am not sure it will do any good or if it will even work."

"All I'm asking is for you to try, nothing more," Dean said, a little louder, "At least we can leave knowing you tried to help us."

Missouri sighed and raised a shaking hand to her temple, "Alright Dean, I'll try, but I do not promise you anything."

"Thank you, Missouri," Dean nodded and turned his attention to his brother when Sam moaned in his sleep.

"It's okay, Sammy," Dean soothed as best he could and then looked back at the psychic.

Missouri had composed herself and she moved once again, this time to kneel in front of the couch, and took up one of Sam's hands.

"His fingers are ice cold," Missouri muttered and rubbed Sam's hand between both of hers, trying to warm him.

Dean fully expected Sam to wake up at the woman's touch but he remained fast asleep. He wondered briefly if Missouri had anything to do with his brother's steady unconsciousness.

Missouri laid one of Sam's hands on his chest and picked up the other, warming it as she had done the former.

Dean's eyes met the psychic's and he saw pain there- Sam's pain- but also a strong determination that was entirely Missouri's.

Dean felt a little better knowing that the psychic was willing to do all she could to help his brother.

"Remind me to send you a fruit basket when all this is over," Dean joked and Missouri chuckled.

"Still got that sense of humour, I see," Missouri smiled at Dean.

The eldest Winchester brother grinned back and shrugged, "What can I say? I'm just a laugh a minute."

"Mmhm," Missouri hummed and raised her eyebrows.

The old psychic stood, bracing herself against the table, "Well, as I see it, the first thing both of you boys need is a good home-cooked meal."

"You don't have to-" Dean began but Missouri shook a finger at him.

"I don't need you tellin' me what I can and can't do in my own house," Missouri scolded, "If I wanna make my guests some breakfast than I will and you are gonna eat it and you are gonna like it."

Dean didn't know how to reply so he simply nodded, chagrined and said, "Yes ma'am."

"You just look after your brother," Missouri stuck out her chin and headed into the kitchen.

Dean checked his cell phone and saw that it was only a quarter to eight in the morning.

_W_

When Missouri said that she was going to make breakfast she wasn't kidding. Dean peered into the kitchen to see the psychic frying eggs, cutting off slices of bread from a loaf to make toast, stirring a pot of something bubbling and-

"Do you need some help?" Dean called to Missouri.

"Nope, doin' just fine on my own, thank you," the psychic answered without looking at Dean, as if she was completely focused on her task.

Dean looked down at his brother as Sam stirred. He spoke softly as his brother blinked, a confused expression crossing his face.

"S'okay Sammy," Dean said and helped Sam sit up, "We're at Missouri's, remember?"

Sam looked around the living room, wide-eyed as though he didn't quite believe Dean.

"D'n," Sam muttered and shifted closer to his brother. Dean sighed and put an arm around his brother's shoulders.

Missouri stopped her cooking and turned around, peering at the boys with a wooden spoon in her hand.

Sam was pointedly not looking at the front foyer and Dean could only guess what he saw there.

"Don't worry, Sammy," Dean spoke under his breath so only his brother could hear him, "He can't hurt you. Missouri's gonna fix you up, just like I promised."

"Okay Dean," Sam muttered, keeping his eyes focused on his brother's face, "I trust you."

Dean didn't like making promises he might not be able to keep- or that Missouri might not be able to come through on- but he couldn't bear to tell Sam that there was no hope.

_SPN_

Missouri watched the Winchester boys interact with each other. Dean had not changed much since she had last seen them; he was still as protective as ever of his younger brother. He still had that cocky attitude that covered up less than he thought it did. Missouri could tell Dean was scared. He might joke with her but underneath that brave, take-no-shit-from-nobody façade Dean was just as frightened as everyone else.

Sammy had changed, oh Lord, had he changed- and not for the better.

Missouri clearly remembered the clever young man only concern had been with the woman and her two children who had moved into his family's old house. Back then that boy would have been willing to go to the ends of the Earth to keep innocent people safe from the monsters that were out there.

Now the broken creature that sat in Missouri's parlour was almost unrecognizable as the young man she had once met.

The old psychic sniffed a bit and scolded herself.

"Not gonna do anybody any good if you start bawling like a baby," Missouri muttered crossly, "What's done is done- can't turn the clock back now- all you can do is help those boys as best you can."

Dean looked up in her direction- almost as though he knew what Missouri had been talking to herself about, what she had been thinking about- but his attention quickly shifted back to his sibling.

Missouri turned around and flipped the fried eggs, the scent wafting in the early morning air of the kitchen. If there was one thing Missouri Mosley loved more than helping people it was cooking for them.

Oh Missouri had many visitors- came by almost daily- but she never had a lot of guests. It felt kind of nice to be able to cook for someone other than just herself once in a while.

The old psychic poked her head into the living room, "Okay boys, breakfast's ready."

As the two made their way into the kitchen, Missouri busied herself with putting the food in dishes- eggs on plates, oatmeal in bowls, and juice in glasses- and by the time she had finished with that Sam and Dean were sitting at the table.

Missouri smiled. Dean looked like he could eat a horse and she was glad about that because poor Sam probably wouldn't eat enough to fill a mouse.

As food was passed around Dean asked Missouri what she had been up to since they'd last seen her.

"Still telling people their fortunes?" he joked and took a huge bite of toast.

Missouri chuckled, "I got my regular customers."

Dean nodded and scooped some oatmeal onto his brother's plate.

"It's just been real quiet. Not much happens in sleepy towns like Lawrence," Missouri shrugged. There wasn't much to say, there wasn't much she wanted to say.

"I'd ask what you boy's been up to but, well," Missouri stopped, feeling bad, like she shouldn't have said anything and she saw Dean nod and Sam bite his lip and giver her those 'puppy dog' eyes.

"Sam," Dean turned his attention to his brother, "Eat something, man. You're gonna insult Missouri if you don't."

Dean gave Missouri a helpless look.

"It's okay, he don't have to eat if he don't wanna," Missouri assured Dean that she wouldn't be offended. She really wanted to say that the boy _had _to eat, to keep his strength up because the weaker he became the stronger the hallucinations and the 'other ones' became. Then again, Dean probably already knew that.

"C'mon Sammy," Dean pushed, his own food untouched on his plate, "Just a couple of bites. I know you're hungry."

Sam drank his orange juice and took an agonizingly slow bite of oatmeal.

Boy should be in a hospital, Missouri thought.

_W_

The dishes sat ignored while the trio made their way back into the living room. Sam was quickly falling asleep again and Dean wanted to see if Missouri could help him.

Sam lay on his back on the couch- it'd be better for both him and the psychic if Sam was asleep: his unconscious mind would be easier to slip into- and they only had to wait mere minutes before his breathing became slow and even.

Missouri took up a seat beside the boy on the couch; his head cradled in her lap and once again put her hands on either side of his head. The psychic could feel Sam's pulse throb in his temples- too fast and unsteady to be safe- but she ignored it for now.

Missouri closed her eyes after warning Dean to be silent and let herself drift. She searched until she picked up Sam's stream of consciousness, as she had done before- it was unmistakable; unlike any Missouri had ever encountered before; wild and erratic- and concentrated on finding a way in so she could help the boy.

Sam's consciousness was tumultuous- his memories of Hell roared to life at the slightest provocation- and Missouri had to force herself not to draw back. Missouri had to remind herself of who she was and where she was so that she would not become enveloped in the boy's trauma.

All was chaos and pain, confusion. Missouri had no idea where she could even start. Hallucinations or the two 'split' personalities? Soulless Sam, as Dean called him, or the Sam who remembered Hell?

Missouri was not welcome. She could sense it, hostility spread out all around her and she was frightened.

But she had to help the boy, she had to do something. But what exactly?

Suddenly, Missouri felt Sam's body tremble beneath her hands and she quickly came back to herself.

"What did you do?" Dean was crouched beside his brother's shaking form.

Missouri detected a hint of angry suspicion in the young man's words, "I didn't get a chance to do anything."

The psychic took her hands from the boy's face as his shivering grew into grand mal seizing.

"Fuck!" Dean swore and grabbed at his brother's flailing limbs, "Not again." The black woman didn't even bother scolding Dean for using such crass language in her house- he was frightened, she was frightened.

Missouri took hold of Sam's arms, struggling to hold them still as his brother actually sat on his legs.

Dean's hazel eyes met Missouri's dark brown ones and the psychic saw terror in the boy's. The older Winchester placed a hand on his brother's chest as though to monitor the beat of his heart and rubbed soothing circles.

"It's okay Sammy," Dean whispered, "You're okay, you're safe. I'm here, Sammy. I'm not going away."

"Let me try and calm him," Missouri suggested and Dean hesitated a moment and then nodded.

Once again Missouri closed her eyes and drifted toward Sam's consciousness. Immediately she knew what happening- the one Dean was called 'Soulless Sam' was trying to take control- but Sam, the _real _Sam was fighting it.

_SPN_

Dean watched with bated breath as Missouri closed her eyes and prayed she'd be able to help his brother.

At least five minutes later the psychic's eyes opened and she smiled, "Your brother fought him off."

"Soulless Sam?" Dean asked, "I thought it was a hallucination…when it happened before… in the car."

Missouri nodded, "And it might just have been a memory of Hell gettin' its claws into Sam but the other one's also here, fighting with him."

Sam's seizure had quieted down to tremors and Dean lifted his weight from his brother's legs.

"Can you do anything for him?" Dean asked cautiously.

"I don't know, Dean. I was not welcome and I'm afraid if I tried again Sam would block me from entering altogether. It'd just be your brother's psychic defense against invasion- he wouldn't even have any control over it- and I would be worried about harming your brother if I pushed too hard," Missouri shook her head.

"I understand," Dean lowered his head in defeat. This was it- the end of the road. Dean had no more bright ideas hidden up his sleeve.

"Should I take him to a hospital?" he asked and Missouri shook her head, despite her earlier thought because although she knew it was right, it would kill both boys to separate them like that.

"You told me that your brother pulled through something like this before," she mused, trying to give the boy at least some hope, "maybe you just have to be patient and wait. Sam's strong still- I could feel it- he may be damaged but he's definitely not defeated."

Dean smiled in gratitude at the psychic's words, remembering the handful of days he and Bobby had waited in torturous anticipation for his brother to wake up when Sam had slipped into a coma following Cas' demolition of the wall. There hadn't been much hope then, had seemed a one in a million chance that Sam would ever wake up again but he had and Dean knew that if he had to he could be just as patient as he had been then.

Dean knew that, really, he'd have waited weeks, months, years even, for his brother to open his eyes after Castiel had done the unthinkable.

Dean knew that this was no different. He knew that he would look after his brother, take care of him, be patient so that he'd get to see his brother's big green 'puppy dog eyes' again.

Maybe this is exactly the help we needed from Missouri, Dean mused, maybe it never was about her fixing Sam outright- maybe she was meant to remind me that Sam is strong and he's not going to give up without one hell of a fight.

"Thank you, Missouri," Dean said sincerely, "You don't know how much you've done for us."

The old black psychic smiled softly and sadly. She prayed she hadn't given the boy false hope but then again, something told her that she shouldn't underestimate the Winchesters either.

They'd been through more than anybody can imagine and they were still standing tall.

That had to count for something, didn't it?

**1. Chapter title comes from a Black Sabbath song of the same name.**

**2. Thanks to d767468, SPN Mum, Samstruck, and LeighAnnWallace for reviewing.**

**3. Thanks to everyone who is favouriting or alerting.**

**4. Reviews are love!**


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five: Whisper

Sam floated up toward consciousness slowly. He gradually became aware that he was awake but didn't open his eyes. He could feel his brother's gentle hand on his chest and hear him murmur softly to someone. Sam felt terrible, his stomach roiled with nausea and his head throbbed with pain.

Something was wrong.

Carefully, Sam's eyes slid open to thin slits and he sought out his brother's familiar face.

Heart pounding, Sam relaxed when he saw Dean hovering over him.

Everything was going to be alright.

"Sammy?" Dean's voice sounded far too loud, like he was shouting at Sam even though he was sitting right beside him.

Sam flinched and Dean's hand traveled to his shoulder to give it a comforting squeeze.

"Here, let's sit you up," Dean yelled but helped Sam lean up against the couch cushions.

Sam saw a concerned look cross his brother's face.

"I'm… okay," Sam whispered, his throat feeling raw, "I'm fine, Dean."

Dean shook his head, "How do you feel?"

Sam squinted at his brother. He wasn't feeling good at all, but that wasn't unusual. He'd felt like shit for so long it was the norm for him now.

Sam closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath.

"What happened?" Sam asked. The last thing he remembered was sitting at Missouri's kitchen table while Dean tried to get him to eat.

His brother didn't reply.

"Dean?" Sam asked and opened his eyes.

Dean was gone!

"Dean!" Sam cried and his gaze darted around the living room. He was completely alone!

Sam jerked, frightened, when he heard a familiar _whumph _and his eyes grew large as Missouri's parlour caught fire.

The flames spread across the floor, eating the carpet and crawled up the wallpaper. Sam's heart beat painfully in his chest but he seemed rooted to the couch. He couldn't move!

He watched in horror as fire flashed over the chairs, the coffee table.

Sam could feel the intense heat coming off the flames and he could taste the acrid smoke in the back of his throat. The smell of burning flesh invaded his nose and he choked on the stench.

"DEAN!" Sam cried out but received no answer.

He watched as the figurines of crystal and porcelain in the cabinet began to melt from the inferno.

"De-" Sam's call was cut off as he coughed on the thick smoke the flames gave off.

"Not real, not real, not real," Sam muttered and drew his legs to his chest, wrapping his arms around his calves and burying his face in his knees, "Not real, not real, not real."

"Sam! Sammy!" a voice called out to Sam and someone grabbed his shoulder.

"NO!" Sam cried out in terror and flinched away from Lucifer.

"God damn it Sammy, it's me! It's okay… you're okay!" Dean's voice shouted above the sound of the fire.

"G'way," Sam shouted, his voice muffled against his jeans.

Hands grabbed Sam's shoulders and he let out an unintelligible cry of misery.

"Shhh, Sammy," Dean's voice cooed, "You're safe, you're not hurt."

Sam opened his eyes and saw that Missouri's living room was not engulfed in flames and Dean was sitting beside him.

"Dean," Sam muttered wetly and leaned into his brother's shoulder.

The older Winchester blinked tears from his eyes and held onto his younger sibling's shaking frame.

"Thought I was gonna burn," Sam said thickly and Dean gulped.

"It's okay Sammy, you're safe; there's no fire," Dean reassured his brother. His eyes met Missouri's and the old black psychic looked like she was about to cry.

"C'mon Sammy, look at me, okay?" Dean carefully pulled his brother off his shoulder and brushed Sam's sweat-soaked bangs off his forehead.

"It… it didn't work, did it?" Sam asked and Dean shook his head.

Sam lowered his head in defeat.

"Missouri didn't want to hurt you," Dean said as though that would make any difference.

"I understand," Sam whispered and Dean's heart clenched at seeing tears well up in his brother's haunted green eyes.

Dean didn't know what to do, what to say. He wished to God he could help his brother and felt horrible that his promise had been broken.

"It's not your fault, son," Missouri spoke softly.

"Can you get a glass of water?" Dean asked and Missouri shuffled to the kitchen.

"We're not gonna give up, Sammy. You hear me? This isn't over yet," Dean whispered to his brother. Sam's eyes looked glazed and Dean wasn't sure if he even heard.

Missouri handed Dean a glass full of cool water.

"Sammy, can you drink some of this for me?" Dean brought the cup into his brother's line of sight.

Sam didn't respond.

With his free hand, Dean placed his palm against the back of his brother's neck and waited for a reaction.

"C'mon Sam, c'mon," Dean urged but then sighed; Sam was lost again.

Dean set the glass on the coffee table and rubbed his face with both hands.

"Is this normal for him?" Missouri asked and Dean nodded.

"It happens less often than the hallucinations but yeah, this is normal for Sam now. Most of the time I can snap him out of it," Dean muttered.

Dean had already told Missouri about all this, but he guessed it seeing it firsthand and hearing about it was different.

"I don't know if he's remembering or what… I mean, he hallucinates and has nightmares but I have no idea what _this_ is," Dean confessed, gesturing to his catatonic sibling.

Missouri came forward slowly; she was scared- scared for Dean, for Sam, for what they were both going through- and gently laid a palm on the younger Winchester's brow.

"He's very far away right now," the old black psychic muttered and looked sadly at Dean. She didn't know anything else.

"S'okay," Dean said, mostly to himself and made himself comfortable.

Missouri looked at the two boys for a moment before wandering off to the kitchen- the dishes weren't about to clean themselves- seeing as there was nothing they could do but wait for Sam to wake up again.

Missouri could hear Dean speaking to his unresponsive brother in hushed tones- she couldn't hear exactly what was being said but she was sure the older Winchester was pleading with the younger one to wake up- and she wished she could have done, no, do more for those two boys.

Dean took hold of Sam's left hand; palm turned up and began kneading the barely-healed scar unconsciously as he spoke to his brother.

"C'mon Sammy, c'mon… I know you're in there and I need ya to come back, okay?" Dean stared into his brother's eyes, noting the large pupils and distant expression.

"Can you hear me, Sasquatch? Huh? Blink once for 'yes' and twice for 'no'," Dean tried but Sam continued to stare as though he were a mannequin.

Dean could hear Missouri as she worked- plates clinking together, silverware rattling, the splash of soapy water- and thought how odd it was that in one room, something as mundane as the chore of washing breakfast dishes was being done while in another room his brother was acting as though carved from marble.

"Hear that, Sammy? Why don't you get up and give Missouri a hand? I'm sure she could use someone to dry all those plates and stuff," Dean spoke softly, knowing he'd receive no answer.

Dean leaned back and heaved a sigh. He checked his watch, wondering how long Sam was going to stay out of it.

He left his brother's side and grabbed a tea towel to help Missouri.

"I'm fine, Dean, don't need help," the woman argued as he picked up a glass.

"Sammy's not going anywhere in a hurry," Dean said quietly, "I might as well do something other than sit on my ass and wait for the Space Cadet to get beamed back to Earth."

Missouri's dark eyes gleamed with sympathy for Dean and she nodded her thanks at his assistance.

Dean's mouth was turned down in the frown it wore so often those days, a vertical line stood out between his eyebrows and his jaw tightened.

Missouri wanted to hug Dean in that moment, to try and give him some comfort but she wasn't sure he'd appreciate her maternal instincts at that moment.

After all the dishes had been put back in their rightful places, Dean and Missouri went back into the living room.

Dean sat beside his brother and put his head his hands. Missouri sat in a chair across from the boys and didn't speak for a number of minutes.

"It's not your fault, Dean," she said softly, surprising the older Winchester so that he peered up at her through red-rimmed eyes.

"I know you think this is all on you but it isn't," Missouri continued.

Dean shook his head, "No, it is. I should have stopped Sam from saying 'yes'. I should have told him his idea was suicidal and that we'd find another way to stop Lucifer. God, if it was anyone else who suggested they would try and battle the Devil while possessed by the bastard I'd punch their lights out."

Missouri clicked her tongue, "It was Sam's decision, Dean."

Dean glared up at her, "A decision he never should have had to make!"

Missouri nodded. No one should have had to do what Sam Winchester had.

"You're right, Sam never should have had to sacrifice himself," the psychic agreed.

"But that's in the past now, Dean. What's done is done and you of all people should know there's no going back," Missouri spoke quietly as though they were sitting in a library or a funeral parlour.

Dean nodded. He knew Missouri was right. What was done was done and no amount of guilty feelings was going to change that.

He should have protected his brother better and he hadn't and now they were paying for it.

The two lapsed into silence again. Dean drifted off into his own thoughts, every so often giving his brother's hand a comforting squeeze.

Missouri moved across the room and came back with a basket of knitting.

"I miss him," Dean spoke up. Missouri looked up from her needles and yarn and peered at the boy.

Without clarifying, Missouri knew that Dean was speaking about Bobby Singer.

"We were so close… so close to getting away… and then… than it all ended like _that_," Dean snapped his fingers for emphasis.

Missouri just listened. Dean needed to talk to someone about Bobby's death- he hadn't spoken with his brother about it- and it was eating away at him to keep it all inside.

"Bobby kept us together, you know? When everything was going down the crapper, Bobby was always there to remind us that no matter how bad things got, we always had each other… we always had him," Dean spoke fondly, reminiscing about the gruff old hunter.

"He was more than just a friend… he was a Dad when our own father could give a shit… and after Dad died, it just seemed natural that Bobby would take us in… like we were his own," Dean's voice grew thick with emotion and he blinked his eyes rapidly.

"I know you miss him, Dean," Missouri said, trying to let him know she empathized with him.

"Understatement of the year," Dean answered morosely.

The black psychic reached out and laid a hand on Dean's arm.

The eldest Winchester remained silent for a moment before leaning back and gave a small chuckle, "I remember this one time… God I must have been ten or eleven years old… Dad had taken us to Bobby's while he went on a hunt in Bassett, Nebraska… you know, to kind of babysit Sammy and I or whatever… In those days Dad was all about training, it was always about teaching me to use a gun and a knife… Sammy was too young, of course, for him he was just excited to see 'Uncle' Bobby… Anyway, I guess Dad had wanted Bobby to continue training me while he was away but instead he took me to the park to throw the ball around! The park! I mean, I sometimes took Sammy there so he wouldn't be thinking about our father all the time but I never went there for myself, you know? My old man must have tore Bobby a new one when he found out about it… it had only been an hour or so and it felt great, it really did… just to pretend I was a regular kid at the park with his uncle."

Missouri smiled, happy that Dean seemed relaxed enough and had opened up enough to share that memory with her.

Dean leaned forward again with his elbows on his thighs, "No wonder Sammy wanted to get away from Dad. The man just didn't seem to understand that sometimes we needed to be the kids that we were."

Missouri looked as though she was trying to think of something to say in John's defense.

"I mean I understand him, I don't hold it against him," Dean continued, "Hell, I'm glad Dad did what he did… I'm glad I know how to protect myself and Sam from all those evil S. out there but sometimes he could have toned it down a notch."

Missouri saw the look of admiration and love on the eldest boy's face and knew that she didn't have to say anything.

_W_

Almost two hours had passed before Sam woke up. Dean had gone from sitting beside him, to pacing the floor in front of the couch, to a seat in the kitchen doorway as he ate his lunch and watched his brother at the same time.

Missouri had mostly stayed in one place, knitting what looked like an extra-long scarf besides making the occasional trip into the kitchen to brew more tea or fix herself and Dean something to eat.

Dean had just polished off his third piece of cornbread (Missouri's grandmother's recipe) when Sam's hand twitched and he blinked, gasping as if he'd been holding his breath underwater.

"Sam? Sammy, you hear me?" Dean was at his brother's side in an instant, his hands gentle on his brother cheeks.

Dean couldn't help but smile as Sam blinked his green eyes owlishly.

His younger brother's gaze focused on him and Dean let out a sigh of relief.

"D'n?" Sam asked shakily, his mouth dry.

"I'm right here, Sammy, I've got ya," Dean whispered and closed his eyes when his brother scooted closer to him and hugged him.

"You're okay, you're alright," Dean rubbed Sam's back and peered over his brother's shoulder at Missouri.

The psychic stood, setting her knitting aside and moved into the kitchen.

They should try and get the boy to eat something, she thought as she took a carton of beef broth from the pantry.

Dean brushed his brother's sweaty hair back off his forehead.

"How're you feeling?" Dean asked, concerned; although he was glad his brother was in his 'clingy mode' and not his 'get-the-fuck-away-from-me-before-I-kill-you mode'.

Sam shrugged, he didn't feel any different. Maybe more tired than a few hours before but that was about it.

Dean continued to talk to him but Sam wasn't paying attention. He watched as Lucifer walked into the living room and sat down in Missouri's vacated seat. The Devil picked up a knitting needle from the yarn and twirled it in his long fingers.

Sam involuntarily shrank back, trying to make himself as small as possible- a reaction borne of decades of torture- and kept his gaze pinned to the needle in case Lucifer felt the desire to use it.

"You think some old soothsayer could get rid of me?" Lucifer asked softly, his voice laced with malicious humour.

Sam was aware of his brother's fingers digging into his shoulder but Dean's insistent calls fell on deaf ears.

If he said 'yes' than it would only show that he believed in something as hopeless as running from the Devil but if he said 'no' than Lucifer would know he was lying. And Lucifer didn't like liars.

"Sammy, c'mon man! You know it's not real! It's all in your head, Sam! Sam?"

"Yes," Sam admitted, "We thought she'd be able to help me."

Sam trembled as the Devil threw his head back and laughed.

"I already told you Sam, I'm not going anywhere. I'm here. Forever."

Dean turned his brother's body toward him; Sam didn't resist but he didn't take his gaze from Missouri's chair.

"_SAM!" _Dean said with such intensity that Sam's eyes did flicker over to his brother's face.

"Aww, big brother doesn't like being ignored, does he?" Lucifer mocked from Missouri's seat.

"Come on Sammy, we were having such a good day, we were, c'mon," Dean coaxed, "We both know that the only people in here are you, me and Missouri."

Sam nodded but he was staring at the Devil from the corner of his eye. He could smell whatever it was Missouri was cooking in the kitchen and his stomach grumbled loudly, protesting the little amount of food Sam had eaten earlier.

"That's it, Sammy, that's it," Dean smiled as his brother seemed to be calming down; Sam's bodily need to eat taking over his fear of seeing a Devil who wasn't there.

Sam saw that Lucifer was no longer in the living room and Missouri's knitting needles were exactly as they had been left. He closed his eyes for a moment and leaned back against the couch.

Dean was relieved that the hallucination hadn't been very long, five minutes maybe- short by Sam's standards- and he gave his brother's arm a gentle squeeze.

They'd get through this, Dean had to hope, they'd get past this.

Sam raised a shaking hand to his brow, marveling at just how long his hair seemed to have grown. His bangs could now fully cover his eyes if brushed forward and the rest was mere inches from his shoulders.

"We should get ya a haircut, Sammy," Dean mused, "You're really starting to look like a girl."

Sam gave a wan smile and looked up when Missouri entered the room holding a tray with a bowl of broth and spoon on it.

Missouri set the tray down on the coffee table and took up her knitting again.

"Gotta eat something, Sammy," Dean told his brother carefully.

Sam peered down at the dark brown liquid. He picked up the spoon and brought it toward the steaming liquid.

Sam blinked and the broth turned the dark red of blood. Sam's grip on the spoon tightened and he swallowed thickly.

Not real, not real, it is not real. It's just soup; it's just soup GODDAMNIT-

An eyeball with an iris the same shade of hazel as Dean's bobbed up from the blood, nerve endings pink and trailing like a demented tail.

Sam gagged and dropped the spoon.

Dean leapt up as his brother practically threw the spoon away from him and stumbled away from the couch.

"Sam!" Dean barked and caught up with his brother, grabbing his arms, "Jesus Christ, Sam, it's just some fucking soup! You have to eat it!"

In his frustration, Dean shook his brother, not hard, but it did seem to jar him and Sam's legs gave way beneath him, sending them both to the floor.

Sam pulled himself from his brother's grasp and curled into a ball, hands covering his face protectively.

Dean made as if to reach out to his brother when he felt a sharp, stinging pain on the side of his head. He looked up to see Missouri towering over him with her arms folded over her ample bosom and a wooden spoon in one fist.

"Get goin', boy; you've done enough damage as it is," Missouri chastised the oldest Winchester, her accent coming through with her anger.

"But-" Dean began but Missouri wagged her spoon at him.

"I'm not afraid o' hiddin' you again," she warned and Dean retreated to the couch.

Dean could hear Missouri talking softly to his brother and he sighed, feeling as if he'd really fucked up. It wasn't his fault though, he was just so frustrated that Sam wasn't getting better, that Sam didn't even seem to be trying to get over it- no, it wasn't Sam's fault that he was like this. If Dean wanted to blame somebody, blame Lucifer for torturing him, blame Cas for tearing down the only thing standing between his brother and Hell, and Dean would even go so far as to blame himself because in the end _he _was the one who gave Sam the green light to jump into the Devil's Cage and let the consequences be damned.

_W_

Once Missouri had calmed Sam down enough so he wasn't cowering in the corner anymore, the psychic brought him back over to the couch.

Dean noticed how his brother's eyes were puffy and red but didn't say anything about it.

"Sam? Sammy? Look, man, I'm sorry," Dean said softly, unsure if his brother even wanted to talk to him, "I'm sorry I flipped out at you… it won't happen again, I promise."

"Sam? Say something, man. C'mon, say something," Dean urged and received a warning glance from Missouri.

"Can we go home, Dean? Please?" Sam asked; his voice so low Dean had to strain to hear him.

Dean felt tears prick at the corners of his eyes.

"Yeah, Sammy, we'll go home," he assured his brother and slumped his shoulders. He was exhausted and frustrated and at the end of his rope. He had started out on this trip so certain that Missouri would be able to help them but now it seemed as if nothing they did could erase Sam's memories of Hell. Sure, Missouri had said that Sam was still strong, deceptively so, if Dean thought about it but _he _wasn't. Dean wasn't sure how much more disappointment _he _could handle.

**1. Chapter title comes from an Evanescence song of the same name.**

**2. Thanks to LeighAnnWallace and SPN Mum for reviewing.**

**3. Thanks to everyone who alerted/favourited.**

**4. Reviews are like chocolate! **


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six: Infinite Dreams

Missouri insisted the Winchesters stay the night. Dean had tried to protest, worried about Sam's nightmares but the old black psychic wouldn't hear of it.

"Y'all are going to sleep in proper beds tonight an' have breakfast before you leave," She told Dean with a determined look on her face.

The oldest Winchester rubbed a hand through his short hair, "Okay, but you should know… okay."

The old woman led the boys to the guest bedroom. It was small but homey, with whitewashed walls, pale pink sheets on the bed, a cherry-wood chest of drawers and an inviting-looking rocking chair in the corner.

"I'm gonna be right here, Sammy," Dean said softly, "See? I'll stay all night. Not gonna leave you."

Dean made a point of dragging the rocking chair to the side of the bed so Sam could see he was serious.

"Promise?" Sam asked, his eyelids already drooping from exhaustion. Dean couldn't help but smile, thinking of how much his brother sounded just like a little kid again.

"I promise, Sammy," Dean said and squeezed his sibling's shoulder comfortingly.

"Okay," Sam settled down under the covers and Dean breathed a mental sigh of relief.

He started when Missouri's voice sounded from behind him.

"I'll just be down the hall if you need me," She told the eldest Winchester.

"Thanks," Dean nodded and turned his attention back to his brother. He reached out and switched off the overhead light and settled into the chair, preparing for a long night.

_W_

Dean woke with a startled snort when he heard his brother give a sharp cry.

Jesus Christ, Dean thought as he immediately leaned forward in the chair, chastising himself for falling asleep.

Flicking on the overhead light, Dean saw that Sam's eyes were still closed but scrunched tightly, his brow furrowed. Dean grabbed his brother's clenched fist and tried to ease it open, the tenseness of the muscles all too familiar.

"C'mon Sammy, c'mon," He whispered, "It's okay man, its okay."

Sam groaned and his eyes fluttered.

"That's it, wake up," Dean soothed, "It's just a nightmare, it can't hurt ya."

Sam's green eyes peeped out from half-closed lids.

"D'n?" He asked in a small voice.

"I'm right here," Dean reassured his brother, grateful when he felt Sam's fist loosen and his fingers wrap around his hand.

"Where'm I?" Sam asked quietly, eyes darting around the guest room.

"Missouri's," Dean answered, "Remember? We're shacking up here for the night."

Sam looked like he didn't know what his brother was talking about at all.

"S'okay Sammy," Dean squeezed his brother's hand, "Close your eyes and try and get some sleep, okay?"

Sam peered at his brother nervously for a long moment before lying back against the bed covers and his eyes slid shut again.

Dean wiped his free hand over his face; the other keeping a grip on his brother's fingers and he leaned back in the chair hoping that Sam would sleep for the rest of the night.

_SPN_

Sam gasps awake in the darkness and panics.

He can't see! He's blind! Something's terribly wrong!

"_Deeeaann!" _He calls out in a voice thin with dread.

A bright light flashes and Sam immediately- instinctively- closes his eyes and raises his arms to cover his head.

Strong hands grab his shoulders and a voice whispers into his ear, "I'm here Sammy. I'm right here."

"No!" Sam grates out and tries to pull away only to have the grip on his shoulders tighten.

"Shh, Sammy, it's okay," Dean's voice says but it couldn't be Dean because Dean was gone and Sam was in Hell and this was so wrong.

"G'way from me," Sam croaks, knowing that he can't fight Lucifer, knowing that the Devil will never leave him alone because it's his fault they're in the Cage in the first place.

"Fight it, Sammy," Lucifer says in Dean's voice and Sam allows his body to go limp because the Devil likes it when Sam tries to fight him off and he won't give Lucifer the satisfaction anymore.

"Sam, you're not in Hell! You're not! You've gotta remember, please!" Dean's voice begs and Sam hesitates because Lucifer would never beg, even while pretending to be Dean, he would never do that.

Sam opens his eyes a fraction at a time and sees his brother's concerned face close to his own.

Dean's hazel eyes shimmer with tears and one of his hands releases Sam's shoulder to brush stray locks from his younger brother's forehead.

Sam gives a choking cry because he so sure its Dean- he hopes and prays its Dean- and collapses, his limbs feeling like jelly.

Sam sighs when he feels Dean pull him into a tight hug, one arm wrapped around his shoulders and the other carding through his hair.

"You're safe, Sammy," Dean tells him, reminds him, "You got out, you're okay."

Sam gives a wan smile because he knows that he will forget and think he's back in Hell again with Lucifer and he'll have to see Dean's tear-streaked, worried face over and over again while memories of torture course through his brain like acid.

"I'll find a way to make you better, Sammy," Dean whispers, "I'm not gonna stop."

Sam's eyes fill with water and tears soak the shoulder of his brother's shirt as Dean keeps a hold on him, still locking him in an anchoring embrace.

"Aww isn't this adorable," Lucifer's voice shocks Sam, "I should take a picture."

"Sam," Dean says, "You stay with me, you hear? With me!"

"Poor Dean," Lucifer mocks. Sam can't see him because Dean won't let him go now, "Doesn't he realize that you don't belong to him anymore?"

Sam closes his eyes as his muscles tighten in fear and terrible anticipation. He gasps when he feels a burning-freezing hand on the back of his neck, claws digging into the sides of his throat and he's ripped away from his brother, thrown to the floor and suddenly he's in a frighteningly familiar place: Hell.

Sam's eyes are wide with fear as he takes in the sight of Lucifer's Cage. Today the walls are red and throbbing, like the insides of some enormous beast. The stench of burning flesh and sulfur permeate everything, seeping into Sam's sinuses and coating his mouth, from the Cage's close proximity to the Pit.

It is terribly silent; the only sounds are Sam's own labored breathing and small whimpers of fear.

Sam curls in on himself, trying with all his might to make himself as small as possible. His skin is streaked with sweat and dirt, his torn clothes barely clinging to his frame.

"Nooo," Sam moans and chokes back a cry of fear.

A chilling wind swoops past Sam, causing his breath to catch in his chest, blowing his long hair back from his brow and suddenly he is stretched out on the rack, Lucifer towering over him.

Sam stares up at the Devil, fear sending tremors through his limbs.

Nick's blue eyes watch Sam coldly and he smiles, a wicked-looking blade glinting in his hand.

"N-no ple-please," Sam chokes out, "D-d-don't."

Lucifer's grin just widens, showing teeth, and Sam cringes back against the rack as though it will afford him protection. The Devil likes to appear in the guises of people familiar to Sam, most often his loved ones, but in whatever shape Lucifer chooses, he always allows a little bit of his real form to shine through. Nick's grin is distorted by the numerous, needlelike teeth that would put an alley cat's to shame and he reaches out with his free hand toward his captive.

Sam's body goes rigid as Lucifer touches the side of his face, the cold stopping his breath.

The freezing fingers trail down Sam's cheek and chin, "You know I like it when you beg."

Lucifer chuckles and Sam bites through his lower lip to keep from crying, hot blood trickling down his chin.

The Devil removes his hand from Sam's chin and he can breathe again. The smile never leaves Lucifer's face as he lowers the knife, slicing Sam from the base of his throat to groin.

Sam's agonized cry echoes in the confines of the Cage, reverberating back to him. Lucifer pauses for a moment as though admiring Sam's anatomy before breaking open the young man's ribcage.

Blood climbs up Sam's throat and spills between his lips, choking him. Sam fights to keep his eyes open as tears stream from them. He knows he has to watch what Lucifer is doing or else the Devil will just cut his eyelids off and force him to see anyway- he had learned that lesson the hard way.

Sam tries to speak through mouthfuls of clotted, iron-tasting blood, tries to call out for his brother to stop the torture.

Lucifer drops the knife, hands reaching toward the open cavity of Sam's chest for his frantically beating heart.

Sam gives a strangled cry as icy claws wrench his heart from his chest. Blood seeps from the still-beating organ and runs down Lucifer's arm to drip off his elbow.

Nearly blind with agony, Sam is almost grateful when darkness overtakes him and he slips into a death that is not death.

_SPN_

Dean's hold on his brother tightened when he felt Sam go rigid in his arms.

"Shh, Sammy," Dean cooed, brushing his brother's hair from his feverish-feeling brow.

Sam shifted in the confines of Dean's hug, folding in on himself and his brother peered worriedly into his green eyes.

"Shit," Dean breathed as he saw the pupils blown wide, the iris a thin jade ring inside the whites.

"No, Sammy," Dean gripped his younger brother's shoulder as Sam curled into the fetal position and buried his face into the bed sheets, "No ya don't. Don't ya dare leave me."

Dean was familiar with Sam's hallucinations but it didn't mean that watching them got any easier.

Dean released his hold on his brother and watched as Sam trembled for a moment before his body went rigid again and tears leaked from his eyes, his breath coming in short pants.

"C'mon Sammy, c'mon," Dean urged, "Snap out of it! Wake up!"

Dean straightened and wiped a hand over his face. He remembered Missouri telling him to call on her if he needed anything. Well, right now he just needed his brother to sleep.

Taking one last glance at his tortured brother, Dean left the guest room and padded quickly down the hall. He passed the bathroom, the linen closet and stopped at the last door on the left that was closed.

Dean pounded on the door, louder than he meant to, but adrenaline and fear were taking over.

The door opened and Missouri's dark brown face peered at him.

"Sam's hallucinating, if there's anything-" The rest of Dean's words were drowned out by the animalistic scream of pain that came from the guest room.

Dean didn't even wait for the psychic, he ran back to the room and his heart leapt in his chest when he saw Sam writhing on the bed.

The older Winchester moved with lightning speed, grabbed his brother's wrists and pinned them between his own hands and threw the tangled blanket away from Sam's kicking legs.

Dean looked up as Missouri entered, her nightgown covered by an old yellow robe.

He watched as the psychic quickly assessed the situation and put a hand to Sam's sweaty forehead.

Sam gasped but then his furrowed brow smoothed and his thrashing quieted until he lay completely still.

"What," Dean gulped, "What'd you do?"

"He's sleeping now," Missouri told the older brother, "Hopefully he'll stay like that for the rest of the night. You should get some shut-eye yourself, Dean."

"Thank you," Dean muttered, sincerely and Missouri nodded.

Once the woman had left, Dean rearranged his brother's tangled limbs into a more comfortable position and pulled the blankets up to his chin.

Dean sat back down in the rocking chair, the seesawing motion comforting but he did not dare sleep for the rest of the night.

_W_

The sky was just beginning to lighten in the east when Dean noticed Sam stirring beneath the covers.

Dean rubbed at his sleep-deprived eyes and was instantly alert to his brother. He leaned over and brushed a few stray locks of hair from Sam's face.

"D'n? Huh?" Sam's face scrunched up and his eyes opened to thin slits.

"Hey, hey," Dean soothed, "Easy there. You're okay."

Dean reached out and put a hand on his younger brother's arm and was alarmed to find Sam trembling.

The older brother tightened his grip on his sibling's arm and the shaking eased.

"There you go," Dean smiled, "That's it Sammy."

Sam sat up slowly; his face pale, dark circles like bruises under his eyes, sweat beading on his brow, "M'okay."

"Sure," Dean said and his hand traveled from his brother's arm to his shoulder.

"Why don't we have some breakfast and then hit the road?" Dean suggested, knowing that his brother needed to eat something.

Sam nodded his head once and stood unsteadily.

Dean led his brother downstairs and settled him down on the couch. He sat down beside Sam and squeezed his brother's hand.

It was only moments later when Missouri came downstairs, fully dressed, and nodded to the two Winchesters.

"You'll be wantin' breakfast I 'spec't," Missouri smiled and turned toward the kitchen.

Dean hesitated for a moment before getting up himself and offering to help their host.

"Oh no you don't," Missouri said, one hand on her hip, "You just look after your brother."

Dean gave in and returned to his brother. Sam's eyes were closed but his breathing came out fast and deep.

"Sam?" Dean nudged his sibling's shoulder, "You okay?"

Sam's eyes opened to slits, "M'not feelin' good."

Worried, Dean reached up and put a palm to his brother brow. It was sweaty and warm but not enough to indicate a fever.

"You're probably just hungry," Dean decided, "We'll get something in ya and you'll feel better."

Sam shook his head and slurred, "Dunno if I c'n eat an'thing."

Dean watched his younger brother's eyes slip close again and he turned to watch Missouri work in the kitchen.

He watched as the psychic cracked eggs into a frying pan, poured orange juice into three glasses and cut open the plastic on a package of bacon.

Dean leaned back against the couch cushions, thinking.

He wanted to find some way to help his brother but he knew they could not keep driving all over the country for much longer. Sam just wanted to go back to Rufus' old cabin anyway and maybe that was for the best, better than heaping more disappointment on top of what they already had.

Dean felt his brother go rigid beside him and he turned to Sam.

"Sammy?" Dean asked. He'd thought Sam had gone back to sleep.

Sam's eyes opened and there was fear in them.

"Sam, what wrong? What is it?" Dean grabbed his brother's upper arm and squeezed.

Sam's mouth dropped open but no sound issued forth. Dean watched as Sam's already pale features took on an unpleasant green hue and Sam scrambled from the couch.

"Sam! Sammy!" Dean called as Sam ran down the hallway.

Dean found his brother in the first-floor bathroom, head practically hanging in the toilet bowl.

Going over to his brother, Dean brushed Sam's bangs away from his face.

"It's okay," Dean soothed, "We'll get ya something to eat. Maybe Missouri has some Ginger Ale to settle your stomach."

Sam gagged again and Dean cringed, one hand moving to rub his brother's back.

"I c'n… I c'n smell it, Dean. I c'n still smell it," Sam moaned miserably and Dean grew confused. All he could smell was breakfast cooking.

"Oh shit," Dean muttered as realization hit. He could smell bacon. It was the bacon that caused Sam's reaction.

Jesus Christ, I should have known better! Dean chastised himself for his own stupidity.

It hadn't been long after Sam had started experiencing more frequent hallucinations when Dean found out that the scent of cooking meat- especially pork- had a very adverse affect on his brother. The first time it happened, Dean had been enjoying a bacon and ketchup sandwich when Sam- who had been dozing on the couch- had crashed to the floor, hands covering his head as he curled into a fetal position, crying out loud. Sam didn't react the same way every time he smelled meat cooking, it just depended on the day, Dean found out. If Sam was having an okay day, he would be fine but if he was having a bad one, one whiff could send him into near hysterics.

Dean felt like such a bastard for not knowing better, heck, it had even taken him a while to get over the smell of bacon when he'd first come back from Hell.

After that, Dean tried make sure his brother was sleeping deeply before he indulged in his meat-tooth- even going so far as to fire up the old barbeque he'd found in the garage to keep the smell from entering the cabin- or steered clear of such foods altogether.

"S'okay Sammy," Dean soothed, "S'okay. It's just bacon."

"Burning…" Sam muttered and Dean closed his eyes for a moment, holding his breath and curing Lucifer for what must have been the nth time.

"Nothing's burning," Dean tried, "You're not hurt. You're safe."

Sam raised his head, tears stained his cheeks and his red-rimmed eyes looked swollen.

Dean held out a hand and helped his brother up and waited as Sam washed his mouth out in the bathroom sink and splashed cool water on his face.

When the brothers entered the kitchen, Dean noticed that Missouri didn't put any bacon on the table and he had a suspicious feeling it had been fed to the garburator.

_W_

As Dean climbed into the driver's seat of the Camero he felt a small twinge of satisfaction- he had gotten his brother to drink two cups of orange juice and eat a few mouthfuls of toast- knowing that his brother had something in his stomach.

Dean revved the engine and was just about to pull out of the driveway when he heard a tapping sound on the window. Winding the window down, the oldest Winchester peered at Missouri.

The old psychic handed him a folded piece of paper.

"What's this?" Dean asked and opened it to see a list of five handwritten names and addresses.

"They may be able to help your brother, Dean. They're all people I know, good people," Missouri explained in hushed tones.

Dean's eyes pricked with tears and he folded the paper back up, slipping in into the inside breast pocket of his jacket.

"Thank you, Missouri. For everything," Dean gave the woman a small smile, "You don't know how grateful we are to you."

"You just promise to come see me when Sam's feelin' better, you hear?" She blinked her dark eyes and sniffed.

"We promise," Dean said and Missouri backed away from the car. Dean didn't bother putting the window back up, it was a warm summer day and the breeze on his face was nice.

Dean peered at his brother from the corner of his eye and saw that Sam had his head leaning against his window, his eyes closed in sleep.

Don't worry Sammy; Dean thought as he pulled out onto the highway outside of Lawrence, I'll find some way to fix you. I'm not giving up on you, brother.

**Author's Note:**

**1. Chapter title comes from an Iron Maiden song of the same name.**

**2. Thanks to AlxM, Samstruck, BranchSuper, d767468, LeighAnnWallace, and SPN Mum for reviewing.**

**3. Thanks to everyone who alerted/favourited.**

**4. Let's see lots of reviews for this chapter! Reading them always makes me smile!**


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven: No Roads Left

Sam leaned forward and turned up the radio so that Guns N' Roses blared from the speakers, drowning out Lucifer's voice somewhat.

Dean peered at his younger brother from the corner of his eye but said nothing. What would be the point anyway?

All Dean could do was continue driving. He had to admit that the feeling of the US-63 felt good beneath the Impala's wheels. They had been driving for two hours and although it broke Dean's heart to do so, not in the direction of Whitefish.

Dean knew that Sam was ready to give up and disappear into Rufus' cabin but Dean could not let that happen. Dean had promised Sam he would find a way to help him and that was what he was going to do, even if it meant driving all over God's green Earth.

Just five more hours until we get to Hoxie, Dean told himself, just five more hours until I'm one step closer to fixing Sammy.

Dean jacked the volume on the radio up to its highest level and began to sing along to 'Breakdown' unabashedly.

_W_

Dean eased out of the car and stretched. He needed to refill the Camero and could also use a snack himself.

Leaning his arms on the rim of the open driver's side window, Dean peered into the car and saw that his brother was scrunched against the door.

"Sammy? You okay?" Dean asked quietly.

Large green eyes stared back at him and Sam nodded without speaking.

"I'm just gonna get gas and something to eat," Dean told his brother, "You want anything?"

Sam didn't react and Dean took that as a 'no'.

Dean had turned down the radio when they'd pulled into the parking lot and now he saw his brother's hand twitch on his lap as though Sam was itching to crank up the tunes again.

Dean straightened up and wiped a hand over his mouth, fingers scratching at the stubble accumulating on his chin.

The bell above the door tinkled as Dean stepped inside the gas station. There was one other person inside besides the girl at the cash register; a businessman who appeared to be trying to figure out whether he wanted Aquafina or Dasani bottled water.

Shaking his head, Dean turned his attention to more pressing matters- snacks for the drive to Hoxie, for instance.

He stared at the array of snack foods for a moment before grabbing a big bag of M&M's, a box of Twinkies and a bottle of Coke.

Frowning, Dean knew he should grab something for his brother but he just wasn't sure what Sam would eat.

Steering away from all the sugary junk food- which appeared to be what the gas station mostly carried- Dean paused when he saw an open box of energy bars.

He peered into the box and grabbed a couple of vanilla-flavoured ones, thinking that they were mild enough that his brother might just eat them.

Dumping his stash at the register, the cashier- a tiny girl with brown hair done up in a ponytail and blue baseball cap- eyed the odd combination.

"Hold on a sec," Dean said and made his way across the store, pushed open the sliding glass door on the refrigerator and plucked out four bottles of water. The businessman had apparently decided to forgo the water dilemma and had wandered over to the coffee machine near the back.

Returning to the counter, Dean paid for the snacks in cash- also getting twenty dollars worth of gas- and pointedly ignored the pouty expression the girl was giving him because he was completely uninterested. All Dean wanted to do was get back to his brother and get to Hoxie.

Stepping out of the tiny store, Dean sighed with relief when he saw that his brother was still in the car, albeit crammed against his door with his knees pulled up to his chest, but at least he hadn't taken off or something.

Dean paused to sit the bag of groceries on the driver's seat and take a quick inventory of his brother.

Kid's eyes were closed and he had his hands over his ears. He didn't answer when Dean called his named softly.

"Damn it," Dean cursed as he withdrew from the window and began pumping his paid-for gas into the Camero.

As Dean held onto the nozzle for the gas pipe, he kept a close eye on Sam. Worried that his brother was drifting farther and farther away from him.

Stay with me Sammy, Dean thought at his brother, don't you dare leave me. I can't do this alone. Stay strong for me Sam. You keep fighting it and I swear to God I'll find a way to fix this.

Setting the gas pump back into its holder, Dean wiped his hands on his jeans before opening his door. He pretended not to notice when his brother cringed away from him as he sat down.

Closing his door, Dean reached out to his brother.

"Hey, Sammy. Sam, it's okay, man. We're gonna go now, okay?" Dean put one hand on his brother's arm and frowned when he felt how tense the muscles were.

Sam didn't answer; just stared at Dean as though he was afraid his brother was going to bite him.

Okay, Dean thought; okay, you know how Sam gets sometimes. Just drive and he'll be fine in a little while.

Gunning the Camero's engine, Dean pulled out of the gas station parking lot, pointedly not looking at Sam.

_W_

A half an hour passed before Sam relaxed… more out of exhaustion than anything else, Dean thought.

He watched from the corner of his eye as his brother's tenseness evaporated and his chin hit his chest, eyes closing.

Dean gave a little sigh of relief, happy that his brother hadn't had a full on panic attack and turned on the radio, smiling when 'Old Time Rock and Roll' came on.

Dean knew Sam hated Bob Segar but he didn't care, he wanted to celebrate a little bit.

He saw that his younger brother was fast asleep and smiled a little.

At least he's getting some rest on his own without me having to dope him up with sleeping pills; Dean thought and then rubbed a hand down his face. He shouldn't even _have _to be drugging Sam into unconsciousness every time Dean decided he needed a nap.

Grinding his teeth, Dean turned up the music; Sam didn't stir.

Dean was glad Sam was asleep. He didn't want his brother to see his moment of weakness; Dean had to be strong for the both of them now. Dean had to hold it together because Sam couldn't.

"Damn it!" Dean slammed the heel of his hand on the steering wheel and turned off the radio; he didn't want to listen to the happy-go-lucky sounds of Segar singing about how much he enjoyed classic rock.

As Dean pressed down on the gas pedal, the Camero jerked forward before riding smoothly down the highway.

_SPN_

Lucifer has taken up residence in the backseat of the Camero. Sam tries to ignore him because he isn't real. He isn't _real. _But it's hard. It's hard not to listen to the Devil when he's speaking just inches away from Sam.

Sam curls in on himself, leaning against the door of the car- trying to put as much distance between himself and Lucifer in the confined space.

"From his brimstone bed at break of day, A walking the Devil is gone…" Lucifer recites with a grin.

Shut up, shut up, shut up! Sam puts his hands over his ears but nothing helps.  
"To look at his snug little farm of the earth, And see how his stock went on…"

You're not real! You're not real! You're not real!

"An apothecary on a white horse, Rode by on his vacation, And the Devil thought of his old friend Death, in the Revelation…"

"Sammy," Dean's voice broke in, "Sammy, its okay… I'm right here."

Lucifer laughs in Sam's ear and continues.

"Sammy, c'mon man, you were right with me," Dean begs, "Please stay with me."

Dean sighs, Sam acts as though he can't hear him.

"Wow, big brother's still trying to find a way to get rid of me, I see," Lucifer says and Sam clenches his eyes shut.

"I wonder how long it will take him to realize that I'm never going away," The Devil mused, "I mean, _you _know that, don't ya, Sammy?"

No! You are not real! You're a hallucination! Dean's gonna find a way to fix this! Sam thinks desperately because that was the only thing he had to hold onto: the belief that Dean would find a way to send the Devil back to Hell.

"Oh no Sammy, it's gonna be just you and me. Forever."

Sam can't help the sob that escapes him at the thought of this going on for the rest of his life.

"Sammy," Dean's voice calls, "It'll be okay, really, I'm gonna make it okay."

Sam hears his brother's voice crack as he speaks and he feels the Camero skid to a stop on the gravel shoulder of the road.

Sam feels a hand on his upper arm and he knows its Dean.

"We're not much farther to Hoxie," Dean says, "Just an hour or so and then we'll find this lady from Missouri's paper and she'll fix you up good as new."

Sam doesn't open his eyes; he swallows against the lump in his throat.

"Just a little longer, Sammy, and then this will all be over," Dean assures Sam but his words mean nothing. Dean promised Missouri would help him and she couldn't. Sam was not going to get his hopes up again.

Lucifer snorts with laughter from the backseat, "Does your brother even listen to himself when he speaks? It's always 'it'll be okay Sammy; I'll fix it Sammy, just hang in there Sammy blah blah blah.' It's pathetic. What happened to the Dean Winchester who once thought he could kill me with that Colt of his, hm?"

"So pride does come before the fall," Lucifer's amused voice continues.

"SHUT UP!" Sam shouts out loud, lashing out at Dean, unintentionally, and clipping his brother's jaw with his fist.

Dean leaps back- not far because of the seatbelt- and then grabs hold of his brother's flailing limbs.

"Sammy! Calm down! Hey, you gotta relax!" Dean pins his brother's arms to his sides and sees Sam's chest heaving.

"Shhhh, it's okay. I'm going to fix this okay. I _will _fix this whether it's today or tomorrow or next week or month or, God forbid, ten years from now but I am telling you _I will fix this," _Dean speaks slowly to his brother, trying to let the words sink in.

Sam leans into his brother, his head against his chest. He feels a warm, gentle hand in his hair and he begins to relax.

Opening eyes to slits, Sam sees that the backseat of the Camero is empty. He takes a shaky breath and feels tears slide down his cheeks.

"It's okay, Sammy," Dean soothes, "I got ya. I'm not lettin' anything hurt ya."

Sam cries against his brother's chest for what seems like forever before Dean carefully pushes him away.

Looking down at his damp t-shirt, Dean gives a wry grin, "Thanks Sammy, I needed a bath."

Sam gives a small smile. He needed that chick-flick moment. He needed Dean to tell him that he was going to make things better. He needed his brother to fight the Devil in his head.

"Hey, I got some stuff from the gas station," Dean reaches into the bag that he'd placed in the back of the car, fishing out an energy bar.

"Figured you might want a snack," Dean offers the bar, "It's 'Vanilla Bean' flavoured or something like that."

One side of Sam's mouth turns up. Dean never really was a good with that sort of thing- give him a candy bar and he'd know exactly what was in the damn thing- but Sam is grateful for the gesture.

To make his brother happy, Sam unwraps the energy bar and takes a substantial bite, chewing thoroughly and slowly before swallowing.

Dean grins at his brother and takes a bag of peanut M&Ms from the same grocery bag.

Sam sets the remainder of the bar on the dashboard. He will not tell Dean that it tasted like ashes in his mouth.

As long as Dean is happy Sam is happy. Sam knows Dean only wants to save him from the damage done by the destruction of Death's wall but Sam, in his heart of hearts, is starting to have doubts that it can ever be repaired. He's starting to think that maybe Lucifer is right.

_SPN_

Dean was exhausted by the time they entered the city limits of Hoxie, Arkansas. It was a small city; a little over two thousand people called it home.

Sam was leaning against the opposite door, his eyes closed and breathing shallow but even.

Dean ran a hand through his hair as he kept his eyes sharp for a motel they could stop at.

He pulled into the parking lot of a motel that had no name. Whatever, the name isn't the important thing; Dean thought as he stopped right in front of the office and stepped out.

The office was small and old but clean. The floors were scuffed wood, the walls were cream-coloured; the desk was cheap ply board covered with faux cherry wood but it was free of graffiti.

A middle-aged man sat behind the desk, doing a crossword puzzle, and looked up as soon as Dean entered. Dean peered at the man; he was medium height and build, with a neatly trimmed blonde mustache and sandy coloured hair. His blue eyes peeped out from behind gold-rimmed glasses. He wore a white knitted sweater- even though it was summer- and Dean thought he looked like he could be anybody's uncle. Why then did a shiver run down Dean's spine when their eyes met?

Ah, you're just on high alert because you're a hunter, Dean told himself. Even little old ladies start looking like a threat eventually.

"How can I help you?" The man asked and put his pen behind his ear.

"I'd like a room- one with two single beds if you've got it," Dean answered and became edgy, worried about leaving Sam alone. Dean peered over his shoulder to glance out the large window at the Camero. The man turned to the row of keys on hooks behind him and picked one.

"Room 6," The man held out the key with its red plastic fob.

"Thanks," Dean muttered and took the key.

As soon as the door swung shut behind Dean, the man grabbed the receiver of the old, light green telephone that sat on the desk and punched in a number. His gaze never wavered from Dean's back as he watched the young hunter get into his car and drive around the side of the motel and out of sight.

_W_

Dean was happy to see that Sam was still asleep when he opened the Camero's door and slid into the driver's seat.

Might as well wake him now, Dean thought; although reluctant to do so.

Sighing, Dean reached out and put a gentle hand on his brother's shoulder.

"Sammy? Wake up," He said quietly and Sam jerked into consciousness.

"Hey, it's okay," Dean immediately told him brother when Sam's face became a mask of confusion.

"We're in Hoxie," Dean said, "Arkansas."

"Oh, okay," Sam muttered and curled back into the seat again but didn't shut his eyes.

Dean rubbed his face with a hand and turned on the car, driving around to where their room was.

The room was at the end- Dean was grateful for that- and he saw that the room beside was unoccupied.

Dean got out of the Camero first and looked around the parking lot. Other than theirs, there were only three other vehicles.

"God I love small towns," Dean muttered, glad that they would have some privacy.

Peering into the car, Dean saw that Sam saw sitting up straight but he seemed okay for the moment.

"C'mon Sammy, let's check out our new crib," Dean tried to smile when Sam nodded.

Dean grabbed their duffle bags from the Camero's trunk while Sam got out of the car, moving slowly and cautiously.

As soon as Dean was within reach, Sam grabbed the sleeve of his shirt in his fist. Dean didn't protest.

Setting the luggage on the ground, Dean unlocked the motel room door and stepped inside, pulling Sam with him.

The place looked pretty clean, although it looked like it hadn't been occupied in a while. The carpet was an off-white colour, the walls neutral beige found in many motels with a band of flowery wallpaper at the top, and most importantly- there were two beds.

Dean could have cared less about the hulking black television atop a faux oak chest of drawers or the dark-stained table and chairs in one corner. Dean was sure he wouldn't be watching much TV anyway.

Sam let go of his brother's sleeve and Dean grabbed the duffle bags.

"You hungry, Sammy?" Dean asked as he closed the motel room door.

Sam shook his head and Dean frowned.

"All you've eaten since breakfast was one bite of an energy bar," He protested. He didn't want to sound bitchy but Sam had to eat.

"All you've had are some M&M's," Sam countered.

Dean ran a hand through his hair, "Okay, I'll eat if you'll eat. Deal?"

The expression on his brother's face told Dean that eating was the last thing on his mind but Sam nodded.

Damn kid's a trooper; Dean thought and fought not to smile.

Twelve minutes later they were back in the Camero, Dean driving around trying to find a diner.

As he searched, Dean made a list of what they needed to do: Eat, find the lady who can fix Sam, get our butts back to Whitefish…

Dean wondered just what they would do if Sam was cured. He thought that surely his brother would be healthy enough to go hunting again, maybe even eventually go after Dick Roman and his pals… like he'd wanted to in the first place.

First things first, get Sammy fixed up and then we can go from there.

Dean parallel parked beside a restaurant called 'FAMILY DINER' and got out of the car. He waited as his brother got out, looking at the buildings around them.

The stores were almost deserted and Dean wouldn't have been surprised to see a tumbleweed roll past. There was a hardware store, a pharmacy, the oh so original FAMILY DINER, a Baptist church, a clothes store…

Nobody ever has to leave, Dean thought as he peered at the red and white barber's pole beside the butcher's shop.

"C'mon Sammy," Dean muttered and led his brother into the diner.

**1. Chapter title comes from a Linkin Park song of the same name.**

**2. The passages that Lucifer recites after Sam and Dean leave the gas station are from the poem 'The Devil's Thoughts' (1835) by Robert Southey and Samuel Taylor Coleridge. **

**3. Thanks to sarah (Guest), Samstruck, d767468, LeighAnnWallace, jack62192, and SPN Mum for reviewing.**

**4. Thanks to everyone who alerted/favourited.**

**5. Reviews are hugs!**


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight: Karma Police

Dean couldn't find the energy to go looking for the woman Missouri had thought might be able to help them. He had practically inhaled the burger and fries he'd ordered at the FAMILY DINER and watched as his brother picked at his salad.

"Maybe you don't eat anything because it's always rabbit food," Dean suggested, "Ever think about that? If you ate like me then-"

Sam shook his shaggy head, "I don't like hamburgers."

Dean frowned, "Yeah, I know you don't."

Sam sighed and leaned back against the seat. He folded his arms around his middle as though he had a stomach ache and didn't speak again for the rest of lunch.

Back at the motel, Sam lay down on his bed and curled in on himself- something Dean noticed he did a lot, especially if he was having a particularly bad day- and closed his eyes as if he had gone to sleep.

Dean went around the room putting up all the wards and sigils, salting the door and windows, more out of habit than anything else.

He checked in his duffle bag and hummed happily when he saw the large bowie knife and a small bottle of Borax solution sitting in the bottom. Better safe than dead; Dean thought, should be the hunter's motto.

Dean let his brother stay in bed. Sam rarely had much energy these days and what little he had was used up quickly, especially if he had a hallucination.

Dean occupied himself with re-run episodes of _The Price Is Right _and _Wheel Of Fortune. _He kept the volume down low so it wouldn't wake his brother. Even if Sam was awake he probably wouldn't watch the shows with Dean, he was more of a _Jeopardy _fan.

_W_

It was dark outside when Dean decided to turn off the TV and call it a night. Sam had slept through most of the afternoon and into the evening. Dean hadn't bothered to try and wake him, knowing that Sam wouldn't eat anything for dinner- Dean ordered a pizza and ate alone- and passed the time quietly, hoping to go out and get his brother some help the next day.

Dean had just reached out to turn off the bedside lamp, preparing to get some rest himself when the motel room door burst open.

The bespectacled man from the motel's office and a strange woman stood in the doorway, grinning sardonically.

"Dean Winchester," The motel manager hissed.

The woman's eyes flicked to the other bed where Sam was just regaining consciousness and trying to focus on what was going on.

"I'm sorry; didn't you see the 'Do Not Disturb' sign on the door?" Dean snapped as his gaze sought out the location of his duffle bag.

"Don't play games," The woman snapped. She wore shiny black leather pants and a tight-fitting black leather top. Black stiletto boots and choppy black hair completed the dominatrix image.

Dean gulped, "You with me, Sammy?"

"Yeah," The answer was so quiet Dean almost didn't hear it. That wasn't good.

The motel manager looked at Dean hungrily and suddenly the hunter knew what these two were; how could he not? They'd walked through all the wards and traps as though they didn't exist.

Leviathans.

Shit, Dean thought, and here we are like a couple of turkey dinners just waiting to be eaten.

"Dick wants these two alive," The dominatrix snapped at the man, apparently seeing the same look Dean had.

"I'm sure he won't mind if they're missing a few pieces," The manager licked his lips and Dean felt sick to his stomach.

From the corner of his eye, Dean saw that Sam was sitting ramrod straight in bed, not taking his eyes off the dominatrix for a moment.

Dear God, please let us get out alive, Dean thought as the woman smiled at the man's idea.

"Good thinking, Bill. I could use a snack," the female Leviathan said and licked her ruby-red lips.

"Maybe next time, Morticia," Dean muttered under his breath.

Dean watched in horror- it never got any better no matter how many times he saw it- as Bill's mouth opened impossibly wide; sharp, yellowed teeth sprang up from the gums and a long, pink tongue lolled out.

Dean barely had time to pull his gun out from under his pillow before the monster lunged.

Squeezing off two shots, the hunter hit the Leviathan in the mouth and Bill screeched as black blood gushed from the wounds.

Not distracted for long, the monster grabbed at Dean with inhuman strength while the hunter fought to keep away from its mouth.

Dean managed to shoot the Leviathan twice more before it tossed him across the room like he was a ragdoll.

The hunter landed painfully on his shoulder. He moved quickly despite the pain and crouched in position to fight. Bill's mouth was no longer abnormally large but he still had that unnerving grin on his face.

By some miracle, Dean noticed that the Leviathan had thrown him so that now he was inches away from his duffle bag.

Flicking his gaze to the other side of the room, Dean saw Morticia shove Sam against the wall.

"Sammy!" Dean shouted, knowing that his brother would not be in any condition to fight off even one of the monsters. His only consolation was that Bill and Morticia apparently had orders to take them alive. Great.

A loafer-clad foot came hurtling toward Dean's face but in a practiced move he grabbed Bill's ankle and twisted, trying to unbalance the Leviathan.

The monster crashed to the floor gracelessly, growling in anger and flailing as he struggled to his feet.

Dean shot forward and scooped up his duffle, hand digging inside until he felt the handle of his bowie knife and the squirt bottle of Borax (If the Scouts' motto is 'be prepared' it should also be the hunter's motto, Dean thought). He shoved his gun into the waistband of his jeans and pulled out the new weapons as Bill lunged toward him.

As the Leviathan rushed him, Dean squeezed the trigger of the bottle, spraying a stream of sodium borate at it. Bill screamed and clutched at his burning face.

"Bill!" Morticia shouted and dropped Sam, who fell limply to the floor.

"Sam!" Dean called and took a second to make sure his brother was alright. He saw Sam lift his head and thanked God that his brother was still conscious at least.

"Touch him again and I'll kill you," Dean threatened the dominatrix.

She put her hands on her shapely hips, "We'd really prefer it if you didn't fight."

Dean reacted too slowly and Bill barreled into him; the hunter hit the television, cracking the screen and sending the heavy device toppling over.

Morticia turned her attention back to Sam, hands reaching down toward the young man but reeled away, a wound in the side of her head oozing black blood.

"I warned you," Dean panted as he lowered his gun.

Bill's body lay beside the broken television, tar-black sludge seeping from the stump of his neck. Dean kicked the Leviathan's head farther away from the body; it hit the door and bounced off, leaving a black smear on the wood.

Morticia whipped her head in Dean's direction, lips peeling back from her teeth in a snarl.

Dean held the bottle of Borax in one hand and his bowie knife in the other, waiting for her to make a move.

Morticia stumbled forward as a knife ripped through her neck. She snarled and her mouth went wide in anger.

The knife tore through the Leviathan's throat, nearly severing her head.

"Sammy!" Dean cried out; he hadn't even seen his brother move.

Morticia fell forward and onto her knees. Sam remained standing and pulled the knife until the Leviathan's head tumbled to the floor.

Dean made as if to go to his brother but stopped short when he saw the look on Sam's face.

"I told you I was a good hunter, Dean," Soulless Sam deadpanned.

Not daring to lower his gun, Dean cautiously edged around Bill's body toward his duffle bag.

"How long have you been here?" He asked without taking his eyes from his brother's evil counterpart.

Soulless Sam wiped his knife off on the back of Morticia's leather shirt.

"Sam was in trouble and you had your hands full with Bill over there so I acted," Soulless Sam answered.

"Forgive me if I don't thank you," Dean growled.

His brother lifted one shoulder and dropped the knife in his duffle bag.

"How did you know to cut off her head?" Dean asked cautiously, watching his brother as he zipped up the bag.

"I watched you," Soulless Sam explained.

Dean stared. Only seconds had passed from the time he'd put Bill out of commission to the time Morticia was decapitated. Dean had thought his brother was too dazed to pay much attention to anything.

"So now what, you gonna finish what you started before and shoot me?" Dean asked vehemently.

"I should but I won't," Soulless Sam answered, green eyes narrowing.

"Why?" Dean truly wanted to know.

"You protect Sam and therefore you protect me," He answered, his mouth twisting as though he had a bad taste on his tongue.

"I thought you were the big bad hunter who didn't need anyone?" Dean argued.

"Sammy needs your help," Soulless Sam answered and didn't continue.

Dean glared daggers at his brother's alter ego and set the bottle of Borax and knife away but kept his gun.

"What are you doing, Dean?" Soulless Sam asked his brother as Dean stuck his gun back his waistband and pulled on his leather jacket, concealing the weapon.

"Getting the hell out of here before the cavalry arrives," Dean strode past his brother and into the tiny bathroom. He grabbed the plastic bag from the garbage can and came back out into the main room. Dean could sense Soulless Sam watching him with interest as he grabbed Morticia's head by the hair and dropped it into the garbage bag. Dean paused to drag the body in between the two beds, concealing it from anyone coming into the room.

He grabbed a tuft of Bill's hair, the Leviathan's glasses slipping of his nose and onto the floor as Dean sneered and shoved the head into the bag along with the dominatrix's.

Tying the bag off, Dean tossed it across the room to his brother and smiled when Soulless Sam caught it, jerking his face away before it connected with his nose.

"We'll put those two in the trunk and deal with them later," He told his brother.

Soulless Sam made no reply except to nod stiffly, staring at the garbage bag in disgust.

Once Dean had slid Bill's body in next to Morticia's he dusted off his hands and grabbed his duffle.

"C'mon Sammy," Dean said, "Time to take out the trash."

_W_

Dean ground his teeth together as he drove out of the town of Hoxie. He gripped the steering wheel with white-knuckles, watching his brother from the corner of his eye, waiting for his Sammy to return.

"Why do you call me that?" Soulless Sam's voice startled Dean.

"Why do I call you _what_?" Dean snapped, turning his head slightly so he had a better look at his brother.

"Sammy," Soulless Sam answered flatly, "You said yourself that I am a long way from being him, so why do you call me that name?"

"I don't know! I'm used to calling Sam Sammy, okay?" Dean snapped, "It's not for any love of you, trust me. If I had my way, I'd kick your ass back to wherever the hell it is you came from but I can't do that without hurting my brother."

"But you are trying to get rid of me," Soulless Sam had have the last word.

Dean didn't respond.

_W_

Dean wrinkled his nose as he dropped the plastic bag with Bill and Morticia's heads into the drainage ditch on the side of the road. There was enough water in the ditch so that the bag bobbed up and down for a moment before being swept into a large pipe along with pieces of litter and debris. Dean was glad it was night, no one was likely to come driving past them at this time, and even if some did, well, they could easily say they'd had car troubles or something.

"That should take care of those two for a while," Dean said, mostly to himself. Soulless Sam was standing a foot or so away from him but his attention was focused on the field of corn the ditch ran parallel to.

Dean followed his brother's gaze and stared at the crows flying over the crop, cawing loudly and ducking down to eat the unripe kernels of corn, taking advantage of the darkness to steal from old Farmer MacDonald.

"Don't worry Sam, we're nowhere near Gatlin," Dean smiled wanly, thinking of the time he'd made his younger brother watch _Children of the Corn _with him. The film had scared the shit out of his eight-year-old brother.

Soulless Sam stared uncomprehendingly at his brother for a moment before turning and walking toward the Camero.

How much longer is this asshole gonna stay here? Where are you Sammy? I need you to come back, man; Dean thought as he followed his brother to the car.

Dean turned on the radio- unnerved by the silence in the car- and grimaced when 'Come On' by Mushroomhead began playing.

Soulless Sam was staring out the window, watching mutely as they drove past fields, his expression unfathomable to Dean.

_W_

A little over two hours later Dean drove into Cairo, Illinois. It was only a quarter to midnight but Dean found that he was exhausted. He guessed it came from fighting for his life against a couple of Leviathans.

Sam hadn't slept at all because, well, RoboSam didn't sleep. Dean was starting to worry if maybe his younger brother was gone for good.

"Where are we going?" Soulless Sam asked.

"Why do you care?" Dean snapped tiredly.

Soulless Sam watched as Dean rubbed a hand over his face and yawned loudly.

"I'm coming with you. Don't you think I deserve to know where we're going?" Soulless Sam asked.

"Chicago," Dean answered after a pregnant pause.

"Ah, more help for Sammy," Soulless Sam smirked.

"Shut up," Dean growled.

From the corner of his eye, Dean saw his brother tilt his head as though confused about something.

"What?" Dean snapped. He recognized that look that meant his soulless little brother was trying to figure something out.

"What will you do if you can't help Sammy?" His brother's evil alter ego asked.

"I'm not having this conversation, least of all with you," Dean informed Soulless Sam.

"Why?"

"Because I hate you," Dean growled, "You are not my brother. You're just a shadow."

Soulless Sam smirked, "But Sammy is not and I'm sure you've realized by now that he is not going to recover."

"Fuck you; you don't know anything!"

Soulless Sam smiled mysteriously, "I know more than you think."

Dean grunted an answer. The Camero's headlights illuminated the blacktop before the car, the buildings on either side of them.

"Poor Sammy," Soulless spoke in a mocking tone, "Scared of the monsters in his own head. He-"

Dean slammed his foot down on the brakes and the Camero screeched to a stop. The city's streets were deserted, many people who had been evacuated during the flooding of the Ohio River the year before had not returned to their homes. Dean turned to his brother and punched Sam in the jaw, snapping his head back to smack against the side window.

"Shut the _fuck _up!" Dean growled and glared at his brother's soulless counterpart.

Soulless Sam didn't make a sound but Dean saw his hands clench into fists, muscles turning to steel.

Gonna hit me now? Dean thought, his jaw tightening in anticipation.

Soulless Sam just sighed though and turned his gaze out the window to stare at the dark, quiet town of Cairo, his muscles still rigid.

From his peripheral vision, Dean saw his brother slump down in his seat- Sam would have slid further if not for the seatbelt- and start to shake.

"Sam? Sammy? Sammy!" Dean took his hands off the wheel of the stationary vehicle and reached across to unbuckle his brother.

In the dim light of the Camero's interior, Dean saw his brother's eyes roll up into his head.

Grabbing Sam's shoulder, Dean continued to call his name, desperate for an answer.

"C'mon Sammy, c'mon man," Dean spoke quietly, begging his brother to be okay.

Dean brushed his brother's hair from his face, staring at his brother's closed eyes moving beneath their lids.

Dean squeezed his brother's shoulders gently, trying to calm Sam and still the trembling that was beginning to border on convulsions.

"Shh, Sammy, shh," Dean comforted, "It's alright, it's gonna be okay."

Sam continued to thrash, struggling to breathe as Dean could only watch and wait helplessly. Dean pulled his brother against his broad chest, wrapping his arms around Sam to try and stop his shaking.

Finally Dean was rewarded and relieved when his brother slumped against him, Sam's cheek resting against Dean's neck.

"There ya go," Dean smiled, "Knew you had it in you."

Dean carded a hand through his younger brother's sweaty hair, sweeping the long strands from his face.

The eldest Winchester remained as he was for a moment, cradling his sibling and rocking him gently a couple of times before easing Sam back against his seat and buckling him back in.

Sam's head lolled forward and his chin came to rest on his chest. A low moan escaped his lips.

"It's okay, Sammy," Dean muttered to his semi-conscious brother, hoping it was _his _Sammy.

Please be my Sammy; Dean thought as he pressed his foot down on the gas pedal.

"Nnneee," Sam groaned and Dean could have sworn his brother was trying to say his name.

"Take it easy, Sammy," Dean muttered, "I'm right here, buddy."

Dean smiled just a little as his younger brother lifted his head, Sam's brow furrowed in confusion and his green eyes jade slits before his chin fell back to his sternum.

Dean reached out and brushed his brother's long bangs away from his forehead, checking Sam's breathing.

"That's it Sammy, just relax and get some rest," Dean whispered, his hand traveling from his sibling's brow to his bicep and squeezed comfortingly.

"Everything's gonna be okay," Dean promised Sam even if he didn't believe it himself.

**Author's Note:**

**1. Title comes from a Radiohead song of the same name.**

**2. Thanks to SPN Mum, Samstruck, LeighAnnWallace, and d767468 for reviewing.**

**3. Thanks to everyone who alerted/favourited.**

**4. Reviews make me all warm inside! **


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine: Brother Down

The sky was just beginning to turn grey in the east when Dean pulled the Camero into the parking lot of a cheap-but-clean looking motel in Chicago.

Dean stopped just in front of the motel's office, taking Missouri's list from the pocket of his leather jacket and grabbed a pen from the glove compartment, sparing a glance at his sleeping brother.

Dean crossed off the first name on the list with a sigh. Their next chance of helping Sam lived in this city. His name is Doctor Taylor Plummer.

Hopefully we won't have any surprise visitors, Dean thought as he folded the paper and placed it back safely in his pocket.

Leaning over, Dean placed a hand on his brother's shoulder close to his neck. He can feel the warmth coming off Sam's skin.

"Sammy, hey," Dean whispered softly, gently tightening his grip on his brother's shoulder.

Dean watched as Sam's eyes fluttered but remained closed. He sighed, "I'm gonna go book us a room but I'll be back 'fore you know it."

Dean ran into the office, ogling the manager- still a little paranoid from his last experience with Leviathan-owned motels- but decided that if the elderly woman was a Big Mouth than he was a professional golfer.

Dashing back to the Camero, he cruised down the length of the nearly-full parking lot and parked the car in front of the last remaining room. Dean frowned- it was at the end but with the motel as busy as it was, it would be difficult to keep quiet if Sam had a hallucination- but decided that it was better than nothing.

Turning to his brother, Dean reached out and gave Sam's shoulder a gentle squeeze.

"Hey buddy," Dean said softly, "Think you can wake up long enough for us to make it inside?"

Sam groaned and rolled away from Dean, curling in on himself with his face pressed against the window.

"C'mon Sammy," Dean pleaded, "I can't lug you in, you're too damn big for me to carry."

He grip on his brother tightened and Sam's eyes snapped open.

"Hey, hey," Dean let go of his brother and held his hands out to show he wasn't a threat, "It's just me."

Sam's brow furrowed for a moment, "D'n?"

His older brother smiled. There was his Sammy.

"Yeah," Dean whispered, "Just Dean."

"Hmm," Sam mumbled and closed his eyes again, beginning to fall back into unconsciousness.

"Oh no you don't," Dean touched his brother's shoulder and Sam's eyes slid open, "We gotta get you into the motel room before you pass out, okay?"

Sam muttered something unintelligible and tried to slip from his brother's hold.

Dean reached out and ran his hand through his brother's long hair, trying to calm him.

"It's okay, Sammy," Dean cooed, "I'm not gonna let anything hurt ya."

"S'okay," Sam whispered and blinked a couple of times. His eyes felt gritty like he'd been awake the entire night and his head was pounding in time with his heartbeat.

Dean got out of the car and hurried over to the passenger side. He was glad it was still early morning and none of their neighbours had woken up to greet the new day yet. If they did, though, it would probably look like Sam had had too much to drink the night before and Dean was just taking his inebriated brother inside to sleep it off.

Opening his brother's door, Dean instantly grabbed Sam's hand and helped maneuver him off of his seat.

Sam stood, swaying slightly for a moment. The pavement was rolling in waves beneath his feet and the yellow light of the sunrise over the buildings was making his head ache all the more. Sam squinted his eyes closed and tightened his fingers in his brother's hand.

"C'mon Sammy," Dean coaxed, "Just a few steps and we'll be inside."

Sam nodded tiredly but followed Dean as he guided him inside.

Step after slow step, Dean finally had his brother standing in front of their door. The light blue peeling paint and whitewashed metal number swam in Sam's vision.

Dean grabbed the key from his pocket and swung the door open wide. He peered inside. It was dark and musty-smelling but he didn't care. Sam needed somewhere to rest.

"Almost there," Dean took hold of his brother's arm again and they stepped over the threshold.

Sam's legs gave out and Dean was almost taken to the floor alongside his brother.

"Sam! Come on! Just a little farther," Dean tugged at his brother's arm in an attempt to get him to his feet.

Sam grabbed onto his brother's jacket but didn't move.

"Mmmm tired… D'n," Sam murmured and peered up at his older brother with half-closed eyes.

"I know you are, Sammy," Dean said through gritted teeth, "But you can't sleep on the floor."

Grabbing his brother underneath the arms, Dean heaved his 6'4" frame upward. Sam stood willingly enough and slid one foot forward.

They shuffled the rest of the way to the bed furthest from the door and Sam collapsed onto it. Dean grimaced as a puff of dust billowed up around his brother's body and Sam buried his face into the comforter.

Dean swiped a hand over his own face, feeling sweat beneath his fingers and groaned. He was exhausted from driving most of the night and his body was begging him for sleep.

He watched his younger brother for a moment and when Sam didn't move or make a sound in his sleep, Dean decided that he'd get some shut-eye as well, after bringing in their bags.

Leaving the motel room door open, the eldest Winchester popped the Camero's trunk and grabbed the two duffle bags.

Kicking the door closed, Dean set the duffels on the table that had a handful of take-out menus on it and went to check on his brother.

Sam hadn't moved from his position and appeared to be sleeping soundly. Dean thanked God for small favours, praying that Sam wouldn't have any nightmares and unlaced and pulled off his brother's sneakers.

Dean tugged the comforter on his own bed down to the end and sat. He reached toward the clock radio on the nightstand between the two beds and set the alarm for an hour.

After one last glance at his brother, Dean laid on his back, staring at the popcorn ceiling, and closed his eyes.

_W_

Dean opened his eyes to the sounds of a radio announcer making fun of some celebrity or another. He reached out and hit the OFF button and groaned. Dean felt as though he'd barely slept at all.

Turning to stare at his brother, Dean saw that Sam had curled in on himself in his sleep.

Sighing, Dean sat up and ran a hand through his bed-head hair, spiking it back up.

His stomach rumbled; reminding him he had not eaten anything since dinner the night before.

Standing up and stretching, Dean tried to decide what to do. Should he just order a pizza or something and stay in or make a run to the closest mini-mart for supplies?

Knowing that his brother needed to eat and greasy take-out wasn't going to cut it, Dean stepped outside and popped the Camero's trunk to see what was left of their food.

Digging through the trunk, Dean found three bottles of water, a half-dozen juice boxes and his bag of snacks from the last gas station they'd stopped at.

Dean stared at the small amount of rations and decided that they needed more. More water and something that Sam would be able to eat.

Biting his lip, Dean peered at his brother, unwilling to wake him up now but also adverse to the idea of leaving him in the room alone.

Walking back into the room with no real conviction, Dean sat down on the edge of Sam's bed and gently ran a hand through his younger brother's long hair.

Sam didn't wake but moved into the touch. Dean smiled sadly. Normally, Sam would swat his hand away in annoyance… but nothing was normal now.

"Hey, Sammy," Dean leaned close to his brother's ear and whispered so as not to startle him.

"Can you wake up for me?" Dean tried again and Sam groaned.

Dean felt relief when Sam opened his eyes. They were almost grey-looking, washed-out with exhaustion but focused instantly on his face.

"Good boy," Dean encouraged as though his brother was a small child.

"I have to get us more food so do you want to stay here or do you want to come with me?" Dean asked slowly so that his brother's sleepy brain could understand the question.

"…'m tired…D'n," Sam muttered and closed his eyes again.

"I know you are, Sammy," Dean mumbled, "So, do you want to stay here? I won't be long. Twenty or twenty-five minutes tops."

"Mmmhmm," Sam hummed and buried his face into the pillow.

Dean remained where he was, fingers idly playing with long strands of Sam's dark brown hair.

He had really been hoping Sam would come with him. He was afraid of something happening to his brother while he was away.

Suck it up, Dean! He told himself. Kid's exhausted anyhow. He'll probably sleep for another few hours yet.

Before leaving Dean salted the door and windows and set up all the protection sigils and wards he knew of. Hopefully just for his peace of mind.

_W_

Dean pulled out of the parking lot a little too fast- he didn't care though, he wanted to get the groceries he needed and get back to his brother- and sped down the street, eyes peeled for a convenience store of any kind.

Seeing a sign for a place called 'Fresh Food Market' down at the end of the street, Dean pulled the Camero into the parking lot and cut the engine.

Heaving a sigh, Dean exited the car and walked across the parking lot, passing mothers with babies in strollers and guys looking like they were rushing to grab something to eat before heading off to work.

Pushing the door open, Dean stepped inside the grocery store and his gaze sought out what he needed.

Rushing past stands of apples and oranges, Dean left the produce aisle and wandered toward the back of the store, searching for bottled water.

A little too late, Dean realized he should have grabbed a cart. He searched the area around him and smirked when some middle-aged guy yakking on his cell phone left his cart unattended.

Walking casually up to the cart, Dean quickly rolled it away and down the aisle without a backwards glance.

"You snooze, you lose, pal," Dean muttered under his breath.

Dean finished his shopping quickly after that. His cart was filled with bottled water, Gatorade, Ensure, a couple boxes of Arrowroot cookies (Sam wasn't a baby, of course, but the biscuits were mild in flavour and easy to digest… hopefully something he would be able to eat and keep down), a twelve-pack of beer and a half dozen packets of sleeping pills.

Dean's foot tapped the floor impatiently as he waited in line. He checked his watch and saw that it was nine a.m.

"C'mon, c'mon," Dean muttered under his breath, "Don't you people have to go to work?"

The woman in front of Dean looked over her shoulder, "It's Saturday."

Dean scratched the back of his neck but didn't reply. A child behind him started to cry and apparently the parents were just tuning it out because the kid wouldn't stop squalling.

Dean gritted his teeth, the sound grinding on his nerves.

"I can help you now, sir," the cashier's voice broke through Dean's thoughts and he pushed his cart forward.

Dean was tight-lipped and distracted as the attractive, brunette young cashier ran his groceries through. He ignored her as the young woman batted her eyes at him and pouted her mouth seductively. All Dean cared about was Sam. Getting back to his brother as quickly as possible.

"That'll be-" The cashier began as she finished checking Dean's purchases through the scanner. But Dean was no longer listening. His big brother sense was tingling and he had a bad feeling that something had happened to Sam.

Dean shoved a handful of bills at the startled young woman and scooped up his groceries, not even bothering to put them in bags, and dumping them back into his cart. He paused just long enough to tell the cashier to keep the change and then he was off- practically running- out the door and into the parking lot.

He shoved the groceries into the backseat of the Camero and sat down heavily in the driver's seat as he gunned the engine and tore out of the lot.

C'mon Sam, c'mon; Dean pleaded silently, please be okay.

He was glad that the market was only down the street from the motel. Dean skidded into his parking spot and didn't bother closing the Camero's door as he rushed toward the motel room.

Grabbing the keys from his jacket pocket, Dean barely registered the fact that he was panting as though he had just run a marathon.

Dean slammed the door open so hard that it hit the opposite wall. His eyes darted around the room in search of his younger brother.

Relief washed through Dean when he saw that Sam was still lying curled up on the bed where he'd left him.

Dean leaned against the motel room door and wiped a hand over his face.

Dean approached his brother just to make sure his brother was still asleep and once he was sure Sam was, he grabbed the groceries from the Camero and closed the motel door.

Unpacking the foodstuffs, Dean kept a bottle of Gatorade with him and sat down on his brother's bed, reaching out with one hand to gently run his fingers through Sam's hair.

"Hey Sam?" Dean said softly and his brother startled awake.

Dean held his hands out, trying to calm Sam.

"Hey, hey," he whispered, "It's alright…it's me."

Sam's eyes were still that washed-out grey colour and now they were filled with trepidation.

"Sam," Dean said slowly, "It's really me, okay?"

Dean smiled when his brother nodded and the tension left his body.

"I got you something to drink," Dean held out the bottle, "It'll be good for ya."

Dean helped his brother sit up and uncapped the bottle of Gatorade. Sam stared at it for a moment as his brother held it out to him before reaching for it with both hands and taking a sip.

"Atta boy, Sammy," Dean smiled and raised a hand to ruffle his brother's long hair.

Sam cringed back from Dean's hand and averted his gaze. Dean pursed his lips, feeling anger flare up inside him before he squashed it down.

Dean lowered his eyes and used his thumb to rub at an imaginary spot on his jeans.

"Sorry, Sammy," Dean apologized and looked up to see that Sam still wasn't looking at him but he was drinking the Gatorade pretty steadily now.

Dean didn't take Sam's reaction personally- he had learned not to- and just sat quietly with his brother.

_W_

Dean was proud of Sam. His brother had finished the entire bottle of Gatorade and even eaten some of the cookies Dean had bought him.

It's pretty sad when you're celebrating the fact your brother can keep an energy drink and a handful of damn cookies down, Dean thought with irony. This is what their lives had come to now.

After eating Sam seemed more lucid and calm, didn't shy away from Dean so much.

"Dean?" Sam asked quietly. Dean was still sitting on the edge of his bed and now Sam had scooted a little closer to his older brother, seeking his comfort.

"Yeah, Sammy?" Dean lifted an eyebrow slowly.

"Where are we?" Sam wanted to know and though Dean didn't show it, his heart dropped down to his feet.

Dean ran a hand over his face, "Chicago."

He frowned when he saw the disappointed look on his younger brother's face.

"Sam, I-" Dean began but Sam shook his head and wrapped his arms around his middle, protectively.

"I just want to go home, Dean," Sam muttered, "Can't we just go home?"

"Don't you want to get better, Sam?" Dean asked. Knowing he wasn't being fair to his brother but he couldn't help it. Dean hated seeing that sad look on his brother's face but he had vowed to do anything he could to make Sam better… even if it meant going against his brother's wishes.

Sam nodded, "I do, Dean… I want to… but I don't like this… I just want to go back to Whitefish."

Dean could have kicked himself when he saw tears glisten in his brother's green eyes and sorely wanted to agree with Sam, say fuck it and drive back to Montana that instant.

"We _will _go home, Sammy," Dean said, "I promise but I want to get you better first."

Sam lowered his head, "Okay, Dean… I trust you."

Dean's brow furrowed in worry as Sam turned away from him and lay down. He ran a hand through his short hair and sighed.

What the hell you doin' boy? He heard Bobby's voice in his head, when'd everything stop being about Sam and start being about what _you _wanted, eh?

"Shut up, Bobby," Dean growled in a low voice, "I know what I'm doing!"

You're letting your brother down, is what you're doing; Bobby had to have the last word.

"Fuck you;" Dean stood and moved across the room, opening the door, "You're dead. You can't help us."

Dean locked the door behind him and leaned against the wall. He took some shuddering breaths, wishing that Bobby _was _alive and with them so he could help.

"Why'd you have to go and get yourself killed, old man?" Dean whispered and wiped a hand over his face.

**Author's Note:**

**1. Chapter title comes from a Sam Roberts song of the same name.**

**2. Thanks to LeighAnnWallace, Samstruck, hugyourlittlebrother, jack62192, SPN Mum, and d767468 for reviewing.**

**3. Thanks to everyone who alerted/favourited.**

**4. Reviews are better than pie (almost)!**


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten: 21st Century Schizoid Man

Dean slammed his fist against the desk, causing Sam to jump a little and the receptionist to scowl in disapproval.

"Sir, if you'd like to make an appointment-" The young woman tried again for the third time.

Dean ran a hand through his short-cropped hair and glanced at his brother from the corner of his eye, "Look, can you tell Dr. Plummer that Missouri Mosley sent us? Can you _at least _do that?"

The receptionist looked from one brother to the other, "Alright."

She picked up the phone and punched a three-digit number before speaking.

"Sir? No, you're ten thirty isn't here. There are two young men who say that a Missouri- yes, like the state- Missouri Mosley sent them." The young woman spoke in a professional manner, betraying nothing.

"Yes, sir," she hesitated, "Right away."

"Please take a seat," The receptionist hung up the phone and stared at the two young men, "Dr. Plummer will be with you in a moment."

Dean hid a triumphant grin and took hold of his brother's arm, leading him over to the row of low-sitting, black leather chairs along the wall.

Dean frowned, noticing that his brother trembled slightly beside him.

"Hey," Dean put a comforting hand on Sam's forearm, "It'll be okay, you'll see. You're gonna get better, I promise you."

Sam nodded and stared across the room at a poster promoting a healthy diet rich in all four food groups. Dean's gaze shifted around the reception area. The carpet was the colour of slate; the walls were a grey-blue. There was a coffee table on either end of the row of leather chairs with popular magazines fanned out for impatient visitors, and fake potted plants in every corner. A narrow hallway led away from the waiting room, all doors closed.

Dean was just thinking about grabbing a magazine when one of the doors at the end of the hall opened and an older man stepped out. He walked toward the reception area slowly but smiled when he saw the two young men. Doctor Taylor Plummer had bright white hair, a plump, red face, and faded blue eyes. He wore a pair of brown corduroy pants, brown loafers and an off-white cable-knit sweater. Dean thought he looked very grandfatherly.

"Good morning," the doctor said in a jovial voice once he was standing right in front of the Winchesters, "You must be Sam and Dean."

Dean's posture stiffened. He didn't like people knowing who he was before he got a chance to scrutinize them himself.

Regardless, Dean didn't let his suspicious feelings show and he shook the doctor's offered hand after introducing himself more formally.

Dr. Plummer held a chubby hand out to Sam and Dean watched as his sibling cringed away from the man and fixed his gaze on the wall over the older man's shoulder.

The doctor didn't seem offended though, he wiped his hand on his pants, "Wouldn't want to shake my hands either… they get sweaty, you know."

Dean forced a smile. The doctor seemed all right but he still wanted to set a few things straight before him talked to Sam.

"Can I speak to you for a few minutes? Privately?" Dean asked the doctor and although the old man's snowy eyebrows rose in surprise, he nodded.

"Absolutely," He said, "Please, my office is this way."

Dean glanced at his brother. Sam would be alright for a couple of minutes by himself. And anyway, Dean didn't want Sam to hear him warning-off the doctor.

Dr. Taylor Plummer's office was about medium-sized and friendly. Its walls and floors matched those of the reception area but the large leather sofa along one wall, the shelf full of bowling trophies and popular fiction instead of medical texts and portraits of the doctor's family made the atmosphere somewhat less imposing. Dean noticed a wicker basket in one corner full of toys.

"I sometimes take on younger patients," Dr. Plummer informed Dean after following his gaze.

Dean nodded and sat down on the sofa without being asked.

"How do you know our names?" Dean asked in a tight voice. He wasn't sure if the older man was a threat but he didn't want to take any chances. If Dr. Plummer's story didn't seem believable they'd high-tail it out of Chicago faster than they could say 'Illinois'.

"I called up Missouri and she told me a little about you," Dr. Plummer explained. Dean tried to calculate the time between the receptionist's conversation with the doctor and his appearance, see if it was in fact a long enough interval to make a phone call of reasonable length.

"What exactly did she tell you?" Dean asked. He still wasn't a hundred percent sold on the doctor but the older man's connection with the black psychic from Lawrence gave him a little credibility.

"Missouri told me your names," Dr. Plummer said with a toothy but kind smile, "Told me that you are very good friends of hers and that she'd take her wooden spoon upside my head if word came back to her that I'd upset you."

"How do you know Missouri Mosley?" Dean asked curiously. He snickered at the mental image of the psychic hitting the doctor with her wooden spoon.

"She helped me when my wife died twenty years ago," Dr. Plummer answered with no hesitation, "Cecilia's death was very hard on me and I needed someone to tell me that she was alright."

Dean thought back to when he and Sam had first met Missouri and she had told them that her clients didn't come to her seeking the truth but only what they wanted to hear.

The doctor sat down on the swivel chair behind his walnut desk but instead of lording over the younger man like any other doctor might; Dr. Plummer rolled his chair out from behind the desk and stopped in front of Dean so there was nothing separating them.

Dean wondered why Missouri had added the doctor's name to her list if she had only spoken to the man what must have been only a handful of times about his deceased wife. Sure, Missouri could tell a lot about people just by shaking their hand but Dean wondered how much _he _could glean from this man just by talking to him.

"I know about hunters, Dean," Dr. Plummer surprised the younger man.

Dean sat back and waited.

"My wife and I were camping out in Yosemite. She was killed by a Black Dog. It tore into our tent in the middle of the night… we didn't have any weapons to fight it off. I barely escaped with my life… wandered around the forest for a couple of days until a park ranger found me. I went to Missouri for answers, to try and make sense of what happened," the doctor's voice lowered and lost its cheery timbre.

"I'm sorry," Dean said automatically. He felt somewhat more comfortable knowing that the doctor knew about hunters and what supernatural creatures were out there but they still had to go over Sam's condition.

Dean leaned forward, speaking seriously, "Alright Doc, you wanna see Sam, you do things my way, got it?"

Dr. Plummer blinked in astonishment at Dean's sudden change in topic and tone but nodded.

"I want to sit in with you two," Dean started off, "No way am I gonna wait in the reception area."

Dr. Plummer nodded, "Of course, Dean… can I call you Dean? If that's what it takes to make you both comfortable, I have no problem with that."

"When I say we stop… we stop," Dean annunciated threateningly. If Sam was having a difficult time with something he wasn't about to let the doctor continue prying.

"You don't get to call Sam crazy," Dean said, "You don't get to use your authority to ship Sam off to some hospital with rubber rooms. I can take care of my brother and I don't need some Nurse Ratched doing my job."

"I promise I won't do anything without your permission first," Dr. Plummer promised.

Dean nodded, "And you don't get to judge my brother. You don't know what he's been through so you'd do well to keep your opinions to yourself."

Dr. Plummer's face regained it enthusiastic light as Dean gave his orders. He had not encountered hunters in his line of work before and he was always looking for new experiences. Dr. Plummer had a passion for helping people and felt privileged to have the chance to help a young hunter.

"Can you tell me a little bit about Sam?" Dr. Plummer asked and Dean, after a pregnant pause, began to speak.

_SPN_

Sam wanted to go back to Whitefish. Why couldn't Dean just take him back to Montana?

He sat alone in the waiting room except for the receptionist and wished his brother would come out of the office and tell him they were leaving.

Sam was scared of the doctor. He was scared Dr. Plummer would think he was crazy. He was scared he would take him away from Dean.

"Dean laying down the law in there?" Lucifer asked. He was sitting in Dean's vacated seat, legs splayed out before him, hands behind his head.

Sam let out a strangled cry of surprise and the receptionist looked up from her work to peer at him for a moment.

Sam gulped and muttered an unintelligible apology.

"And you still believe that Dean doesn't think you're cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs?" Lucifer asked with a soft chortle.

Sam pressed his thumb down on his left palm. He gritted his teeth as his hand twinged with pain but the Devil remained as solid as the chair he sat in.

"Aren't you having fun anymore Sammy?" Lucifer asked mockingly, "'Cause I must say this game is _so _entertaining… but if you don't like it anymore, that's fine by me."

Sam watched as Lucifer raised a hand and set his thumb against his middle finger as if to snap them together.

"We can always go back to what we were doing before…" The Devil gave a smug smile and Sam's eyes widened.

"No! Please, please no!" Sam cried out, hated that he was begging but the thought of this illusion- if that was what it truly was- dissolving, terrified him. The thought of losing Dean and being pitched back into the Cage to be tortured by Lucifer made Sam's heart hammer in his chest and the sweat of panic break out on his brow.

"Sir, are you alright?" The receptionist asked; her face concerned after hearing Sam's outburst.

Sam bit his lip, glanced at Lucifer from the corner of his eye, and nodded.

This might not be real… Dean might just be a phantom created by Lucifer but it was as close to the real Dean that Sam was ever going to get again and he hated the thought of losing even that.

No! A voice shouted in Sam's mind- it sounded like Dean's voice, like Bobby's voice- This is real, Sam! Lucifer's not real! You know he's not! You got out! You're free!

Sam dug his thumb into his palm and startled when the door at the end of the hall opened and Dean stepped out.

Lucifer glanced from brother to brother but Sam ignored him. Dean made it down the short hall and to his sibling's side in a matter of seconds.

"It's okay, Sammy," Dean tried to pry Sam's hands apart but he refused to move them, "You're alright, yeah?"

Sam's breathing hitched, "Dean… I don't know."

Sam closed his eyes when he felt his brother's arms wrap around him. Normally Dean would never engage in a PDA but ever since Sam had started to hallucinate again his older brother had let down his walls and allowed for as many chick-flick moments as was necessary.

"I'm real, little bro," Dean muttered, "This is all real."

Sam opened his eyes and relaxed. Lucifer was gone.

"Is it really you, Dean?" Sam whispered.

He felt his brother's grip tighten, "We got you out, Sammy. You're safe here with me."

"Thanks," Sam spoke through the emotion in his throat and waited until Dean pulled away first.

Dean stood and straightened his shirt. He held his hand out and Sam took it gratefully.

Sam followed his brother down the hall and into Dr. Plummer's office. Dean led him to the leather couch and sat Sam down before taking a seat beside him.

"Hello Sam," Dr. Plummer said in a friendly voice. Sam thought the man looked like he could be Santa Claus if he grew a beard.

Sam didn't say anything and the doctor continued.

"I'm Dr. Plummer but you can call me Taylor," the doctor said but Sam didn't think he'd call him Taylor. He really didn't trust anyone anymore, except Dean, and even then, he wasn't sure about his own brother at times.

"Now, I just want to get to know you today," Dr. Plummer said, "Okay? No difficult questions; just friendly conversation."

Sam looked to his brother from the corner of his eye. Sam just wanted to get up and walk out the door but the hopeful expression on Dean's face made him stay.

Trust Dean, Sam told himself for what must have been the billionth time. Trust Dean… he knows what he's doing.

_SPN_

Dean was proud of his brother. Sam had actually given Dr. Plummer more than one-word answers as Dean had feared he would. Although Sam spoke to the doctor, Dean could easily see that his brother was uncomfortable with him. Dean wasn't sure if Sam would be willing to open up to Dr. Plummer when the time came to talk about Hell. The doctor though had kept his grandfatherly demeanor throughout their first meeting and assured both Winchesters that they would take things slowly.

Sam looked exhausted as they drove back toward their motel so Dean decided to eat in. He could order pizza or Chinese and try to get his brother to drink some more Gatorade and maybe eat some more Arrowroot cookies. Dean wished he could call Bobby and talk to him, let the old man know that maybe, just maybe they'd finally found someone who could help Sam. Dean's grip tightened on the steering wheel as he thought about Bobby's death and the monsters responsible for it. Dean would love to get revenge on Dick Roman but his one and only priority now was looking after his brother. No way was Dean going to go hunting Leviathans with Sam in the state that he was in. Even after they'd fixed Sammy, Dean didn't really have the heart to hunt anything again. He was done, that was it. This life had taken so much from him and Sam that Dean thought it best to just be grateful for the things he did have and take care of the only thing that mattered: His brother.

_W_

Dean's eyes were starting to slip close but he shook his head. Sam was still awake and Dean would not sleep before his brother.

Sam was sitting on his bed with his knees pulled up to his chest. He didn't seem particularly spooked but Dean didn't want to take any chances. He sat down beside his sibling and gently squeezed the back of Sam's neck comfortingly.

"It's okay, Sammy," Dean murmured, "You're safe. No one's gonna hurt you, okay?"

Dean could see that Sam was definitely worried about something. The look on his face said it all. Sam's mouth was pulled down in a frown, his brow was furrowed and his eyes narrowed.

"We were having such a good day, yeah?" Dean continued, "You did so well today."

Sam leaned his head against his sibling's shoulder and Dean's heart quickened, hoping that Dr. Plummer would be able to do something, _anything _to ease his brother's pain.

Nearly unconsciously, Dean began humming Metallica's 'Nothing Else Matters' and prayed that Sam would sleep peacefully that night.

_SPN_

Dean clutched his cell phone tight enough to the side of his head to make his ear ache from the pressure. He bit his lip, hoping that Dr. Plummer would pick up. The doctor had given Dean his home number and instructions to call him at any time.

Before leaving the doctor's office the day before, Dean and the old psychiatrist had set up an appointment for the day after, Dean making a point of the need for speed in regards to helping Sam. Dean knew that his brother wasn't going to be healthy again on the spot but he didn't like the idea of staying in one place for too long, thinking of the Leviathans that had attacked them back in Hoxie.

It was early in the morning, the sun wasn't even up yet, but Dean knew they wouldn't be making their appointment.

Dean had been woken up by the sound of his brother sobbing. Instantly out of his own bed, Dean found Sam sitting in a corner of the room, hands over his face and tears streaming down his cheeks.

Dean had tried to snap Sam out of it, comfort him but his brother shied away and refused to be consoled. Dean heart had skipped a beat when he'd seen that his brother's green irises were thin rings around wide, black pupils. His eyes terrified.

"Hello?" Dean recognized the doctor's quiet voice.

"Dr. Plummer? It's Dean Winchester," Dean spoke quickly, "Look, I know it's really early but I'm just calling 'cause I don't think Sam and I will be able to make it in today."

"What's wrong?" Dr. Plummer asked, sounding more awake now.

Dean wiped a hand over his face, eyes averted from his brother, "Sammy's… It's a bad day…"

"Is there anything I can do?" Dr. Plummer's voice was full of genuine concern for the young man.

"I… I don't know… Sometimes he snaps out of it, sometimes he doesn't," Dean explained helplessly.

Dean heard the doctor sigh reluctantly, "Alright, please call me if anything changes."

"Wait! Maybe there is something you can do," Dean said hesitantly. He had been looking after Sam by himself for a couple of months now and although he was reluctant to have anybody else share that responsibility (or take it away from him) Dean decided that he wanted someone there with him, if only just to keep him company.

"Can you… can you come over?" Dean asked, "We're at the Sunflower Motel on Liverpool Street. Room 4B"

"I'll be there as soon as I can," the doctor said and Dean closed his cell.

Tossing the phone onto his bed, Dean approached his brother again. Throughout Dean's conversation with the doctor, Sam hadn't calmed down. He remained where he was, pressed into the corner, face covered against whatever horror he thought he might see, with tears still stained his cheeks and dripped off his chin.

Dean crouched down in front of his brother and reached out to touch Sam's hand, trying to pull it away from his face.

Sam pushed himself hard into the corner, desperate to get away from Dean. He let out a long whimper and mumbled something too low and jumbled for Dean to understand.

"It's alright, Sammy," Dean whispered in his most soothing voice, "I'm not gonna hurt you. You gotta calm down now."

Sam shook his head frantically and Dean wondered if his younger brother even knew what he was saying.

Dean gripped both of Sam's wrists tightly, yet gently and pried them away from his face.

"No!" Sam cried out and kicked at Dean, catching him in the stomach.

Grimacing from the pain, Dean refused to relent. He continued to hold onto his brother's arms, all the while talking to him comfortingly.

"It's okay, Sammy," Dean cooed, "It's gonna be alright. You're safe. Nothing's gonna hurt you."

Sam still refused to calm down and was only becoming more and more frantic. He squeezed his eyes closed; tears welled up from beneath the lids.

"Sam!" Dean said in a stern voice, "Look at me. Open your eyes. Now."

Dean wasn't at all relieved when his brother's eyes flew open wide and he saw the unadulterated terror in them.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Dean said apologetically and tried to pull his brother into a hug.

Sam pressed his fists against his brother's chest, preventing Dean from drawing him closer.

"No!" Sam cried out, still trying to pull away from his brother, "Please."

Dean released his hold on Sam and sat back on his haunches.

"Sammy," Dean spoke again, "Sammy it's okay. It's me, Dean."

Dean bit his lip when his brother shook his head and wrapped his arms around his middle, staring unblinkingly at him as though waiting for Dean to hurt him.

"Not," Sam choked out between the relentless sobs, "Dean."

Dean was reminded of the time, months ago now, when he had found Sam in that abandoned warehouse, having been tricked by Lucifer and unsure of which Dean was the real deal.

"It _is _me, Sammy," Dean said, "It is. I'd never hurt you, you know that."

"Stop," Sam whimpered, "Stop. Please."

Dean sighed as his eyes prickled with tears, "I'm not going away, Sammy. I'm gonna stay right here with you until you come back to me, okay?"

Dean tried to speak in the least threatening way, trying to reassure his brother that he wasn't going to leave him and trying to make sure Sam knew he was really his brother and not Lucifer wearing a mask.

Sam curled further into the corner, doubling over, eyes remaining locked on Dean.

Dean sat back against the wall, close to Sam but not touching him. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes, hoping that Sam would realize he wasn't going to hurt him. He found himself urging Dr. Plummer to get to the motel as fast as possible.

_SPN_

A frigid wind collides with Sam and he shivers uselessly, crouching down in the icy snow. Instinct tells Sam to hide, even though he knows Lucifer will find him, he curls as small as possible despite the fact that his hands and feet are numb from the cold.

Sam knows that Lucifer is playing with him and will find Sam when he felt like it. For the Devil, it seems the chase is just as entertaining as the catch.

Sam's breathing is loud and rapid with panic as he draws the air toxic with the smell of sulfur and burnt human flesh into his aching lungs.

Large, wet snowflakes buffet Sam from all sides, a blizzard whipping up to obscure his vision. Sam rubs his hands together, trying to get them warm. They were red raw, chapped from the snow and low temperature.

The sound of crunching snow sends Sam's heart leaping into his throat. He peers around with wide eyes, trying to see through the flurry of snow.

"No," Sam whispers to himself, "No. Please."

Sam's shivering becomes worse, mixing with fear as he waits.

The wind dies down to nothing and Sam has a clear 360 degree view of his surroundings. Snow stretches for as far as he can see, in dunes and valleys, sparkling in the false light coming from above. Sam knows that if he looks for it, he'd see the Sun, but he knows it wouldn't be real because although it gives off light, it gives off no heat.

Sam searches out the source of the footfalls crunching through the snow. He always tries to keep Lucifer from surprising him, sneaking up on him. Sometimes it works but most of the time it doesn't. Sam's pretty sure that was all part of Lucifer's game too.

Sam's heart gives a jolt when he sees Dean walking toward him through the snow.

"Dean," Sam whispers his brother's name, knowing full well that it can't be his brother because Sam had made Dean promise he wouldn't come back for him.

Tears fall from Sam's eyes, only to freeze on his face. A part of Sam wants to get up and run to his older brother, wants to feel Dean's reassuring embrace and hear his comforting words, wants this all to be a bad dream and wake up safe with the person he cares about (and who cared about him) the most.

"Not him," Sam begs, "Please, not Dean."

Sam sees Lucifer smile a smile Dean would never use as he continues toward him, slowly and steadily, in no rush whatsoever.

"Anyone but Dean," Sam pleads, his voice no louder than a whisper, "I… I can't do it."

"Getting a little ahead of ourselves, aren't we Sammy?" Lucifer asks in Dean's voice, mocking him, "I haven't even touched you yet."

_SPN_

Dean was startled awake by an urgent rapping on the motel door. He groaned and his eyes darted to his brother.

Sam was still curled in the corner, hands over his face, body trembling visible and making soft crying noises.

Dean stood and moved sluggishly to the door. Dr. Plummer looked worriedly at the oldest Winchester. The old doctor appeared to have gotten dressed in the dark. He was wearing a pair of olive green corduroy trousers and a mustard yellow sweatshirt. He had a pair of scuffed, grey sneakers on his feet.

"I'm not sure what I can do to help," Dr. Plummer said apologetically, "I haven't taken on a severe case in years."

Dean shook his head and moved aside so that the doctor could enter, "That's okay… I just…"

Dr. Plummer looked at the Winchester questioningly.

"Maybe you'll understand what's happening if you see for yourself," Dean said, exhausted.

_SPN_

Sam feels as though the frigid temperatures have frozen him solid. He doesn't even try to move as Dean- Lucifer- crouches down in front of him in the snow.

His brother's hazel eyes stare into his and a lump in Sam's throat chokes him. Sam closes his eyes and waits for the angel to make his move.

"Why won't you look at me?" Lucifer asks as though he really wanted to know the answer.

"You're not…" Sam swallows thickly, "Not Dean."

"Hm, well, be that as it may," Dean's voice rings in Sam's ears, "You should be grateful you get to see your brother, even like this."

Sam opens his eyes to slits and his heart flutters in his chest because Lucifer looks _so much_ like Dean it takes all he has not to reach out to him.

Lucifer smiles, Dean's eyes crinkling at the edges and Sam draws back, afraid of what is about to happen.

The Devil plays with the silver ring on one finger of his right hand, twisting the band around and around almost as though in thought.

"I could make you forget all about Dean," Lucifer says, no longer looking at Sam but more concerned with the piece of jewelry, "I could make you forget what he looks like, what he sounds like. I could make you forget his name."

Tears fill Sam's eyes again. His throat burns and tightens with unvoiced sobs.

Dean's hazel eyes cut back to Sam, a sneer twisting his mouth, "But what fun would that be?"

Sam shakes his head, unsure of exactly why he is doing so. He cries out when Lucifer's hand snakes out and grabs his hair. Dean- no, Lucifer- pulls Sam's face close to his and the young man can feel the angel's freezing breath on his skin, colder even than the snow surrounding them.

"I want you to remember, Sam," the Devil whispers in Dean's voice, "I want you to remember _everything_."

Lucifer releases Sam and the young man cringes away, away from his brother.

"Ahh, Sammy," the Devil says as if they are not sitting in a sea of snow and ice, "I can't stay angry at you." The expression on Lucifer's face, the hate in his eyes, betrayed his words.

Sam shudders as Dean reaches out and runs a hand through his messy, dirty hair. Sam grits his teeth together when he feels the invisible talons rake across his scalp. A few tears squeeze themselves from Sam's eyes and a trickle of blood makes its way down his forehead.

Dean's eyes pinch with concern for a moment and he swipes the blood away with the sleeve of his leather jacket.

Sam breaks down. Doubling over, Sam lets the tears flow freely as he tries to bury himself in the snow, entomb himself, numb himself.

Sam doesn't fight as he feels Dean's… no, not Dean's… Lucifer's hands grab the back of his shirt and pull him up out of the dune he's digging into.

"Sammy," Dean's voice breathes and Sam doesn't care that it isn't really his brother, doesn't really care that it is Lucifer as long as he could get some sort of comfort from him.

Sam goes limp when Dean wraps strong arms around him and hugs him to his chest. Sam knows it's all a trick, he knows that it's not really his brother but doesn't care because he could actually smell the leather of Dean's jacket.

"Dean," Sam mumbles, not feeling the warmth that should accompany his brother's flesh-and-blood body and knowing he should be concerned.

He feels his brother tremble and thinks that maybe Dean- something's wrong because Dean shouldn't be here- is laughing, happy that they are together.

Dean unwraps his arms from around Sam but the young man does not let go- Sam doesn't dare let go- and whispers words that should send up red flags.

"Oh Sam, you are so easy to fool."

A painful tug in Sam's stomach brings him back to reality. He looks down and sees Ruby's knife sticking out from his abdomen.

Sam can taste blood in the back of his throat and his eyes are wide and pleading as Lucifer takes hold of his chin.

Dean smiles; showing teeth.

Lucifer rips the knife from Sam's stomach and the young man cries out, feeling the serrated blade tear precious internal organs.

Dean backs up and Sam crumbles to the ground, on his hands and knees in the frozen wasteland.

One hand going instinctively to his abdomen, Sam feels hot blood pour over his numb, trembling fingers

Sam coughs, blood burbling up his throat to drip onto the clean, white snow as Lucifer watches just out of reach, a sadistic smile distorting the memory of Dean's face.

"Please," Sam rasps, "Stop. Please…"

Lucifer twirls the demon killing knife idly in one hand, the blade flashing between long fingers, "Why? When I have all of eternity to play with my new toy?"

Sam crawls a few inches forward but is stopped by Dean's boot on his collarbone. Gently, Lucifer nudges with his foot and Sam collapses.

Sam feels terribly cold now, colder than the frozen wasteland around him; he can feel the snow leeching the warmth away from his body even as it soaks up his blood.

Sam's vision blurs but his eyes, seeming to move of their own accord, seek out and find Lucifer. Dean's hazel eyes peer down at him with malice and hatred and his mouth twists in a cruel smirk.

Dean, Sam thinks before his brain becomes too foggy from blood loss; I know you, I know the real you and I promise I'll never forget you. No matter what _he _does, I'll never…forget…

_SPN_

Dean ignored the old man as Dr. Taylor Plummer sat down at the small table beside the motel room's window. The psychiatrist did not speak again to Dean as he watched the young hunter try and comfort his brother.

Sam hadn't moved from the corner, even with the doctor's arrival, too traumatized to do anything but curl into himself. He sat there, shivering, crying, terrified, trapped in his memories of Hell.

Dean hunkered down in front of his brother so he was eye-level with him, "Sammy."

Sam flinched at the sound of his name, "No…"

"It's okay Sammy," Dean continued, speaking in a soft monotone, "No one's gonna hurt ya. You can't be comfortable scrunched up like that."

"S-stop," Sam mumbled, "Not him… not Dean."

Dean breathed in through his nose, "It _is _me, Sammy. The real me. I'm not gonna hurt you."

Sam shook his head and refused to meet his brother's gaze.

Dean bit his lip, realizing they were going to get nowhere with cajoling, decided to take things up a notch.

Missouri might hate me for doin' this but I can't get through to Sam any other way, Dean thought as he reached out a hand toward his sibling.

Sam cried out as though Dean had struck him and pulled his knees up to his chin, burying his face in his lap.

Ignoring Sam's protests, Dean pulled him away from the corner and into a bear-hug.

Sam pushed his fists against his older brother's chest, kicked his legs out but Dean refused to let go.

"S'okay Sammy," Dean grunted as he fought to contain his struggling sibling, "Just calm down."

"No! Please," Sam begged, "Let me go! Not Dean!"

Dean hissed as one of his brother's flailing fists caught his jaw. He'd have a nice bruise there to go along with the one on his abdomen from where Sam had kicked him earlier.

Dean wrapped his arms tight around his brother's shaking frame, crushing Sam to him in an attempt to stop his writhing.

"Shhh Sammy," Dean mumbled and one hand moved up to rest on the back of his brother's head, steadying the younger man.

Dean almost breathed a sigh of relief when he felt his brother go limp in his arms. Dean squeezed his brother even tighter for a moment, relishing the beating of Sam's heart before loosening his hold.

Scared, tear-filled green eyes peered up at Dean and the older Winchester could almost hear the wheels turning in Sam's head as he tried to figure him out.

"Dean?" Sam asked tentatively as though afraid of the answer. He reached up a trembling hand toward his brother's face and Dean let him.

"Yeah, Sammy," Dean smiled, "It's just me. I got ya. Nothing's gonna hurt you."

Tears of happiness filled Sam's eyes and Dean gently took hold of his brother's hand in his own.

"Let's say we get you back to bed?" Dean suggested and pulled his brother up with him as he stood.

Sam turned his head and only then seemed to realize that the doctor was in the room.

"Dean?" Sam asked uncertainly and looked to his brother for answers.

"He's okay, Sammy," Dean assured Sam, "He's a friend."

Sam gripped Dean's shirt tightly as they walked the short distance to the beds across the room. Dean sat his brother down on his bed and tried to loosen his brother's death-grip.

"You gotta get some rest, Sammy," Dean told him, "And you can't do that if we're like this."

Slowly Sam lowered his hands, "Don't leave me, okay?"

"I'm not going anywhere, Sammy," Dean told him, "I've told you before."

Sam flinched slightly and Dean reached out and lifted his brother's chin with his fingers.

"I'll sit here with until you fall asleep, alright?"

Sam nodded and laid down on the bed. Dean stood for a moment to arrange the sheets over his brother before sitting next to him.

Dean was sure the kid would be asleep in no time, worn out with pure exhaustion.

_W_

"Do you ever talk about it?"

Dr. Plummer's voice startled Dean- he'd completely forgotten the old man was there- and he twisted around on the bed to look at him.

Sam's eyes were closed tight and his breathing was even- he was fast asleep. Dean brushed his brother's long bangs off his brow and grimaced.

"No," Dean whispered, "Never."

"I can see that you care very deeply for your brother," Dr. Plummer said. He had not moved from the small table by the window but his voice carried across the small room to the hunter.

Dean nodded. If he didn't care about Sam, than who would?

The doctor stood and stretched, "Don't worry about the appointment today, Dean. Just concentrate on getting Sam some of his strength back."

Dean stood to see the good doctor out. He was surprised the older man had taken the display so well. Surely he had not come across such a patient before.

The young hunter stood in the doorway and spoke up as Dr. Plummer reached the curb, headed toward his old, green Pontiac.

"Look, I'll understand if this is too big for you," Dean said, "I know you said you don't take on things like this so-"

Dr. Plummer shook his head, his cheeks ruddy in the glow of the light above the motel room door, "What kind of doctor would I be if I didn't at least try to help you?"

Dean swallowed, "I'm sorry that I called you over… It's just that… we're alone and I… er…"

The old man stepped back onto the sidewalk and set a pudgy hand on Dean's shoulder.

"Don't worry about it, son. You have nothing to be sorry for," Dr. Plummer assured Dean.

The hunter nodded. Missouri had made the right choice. Dr. Plummer was a genuinely good person, the likes of which Dean hadn't seen in a very long time.

"You take care of yourself now," Dr. Plummer instructed Dean, "And take care of your brother."

Dean nodded, a lump suddenly stopping up his throat and watched as Dr. Plummer unlocked his car and drove out of the parking lot into the grey early morning light.

With a sigh, Dean leaned against the doorframe. He ran a hand through his short hair and peered into the depths of the motel room, his eyes locking on the form of his sleeping brother.

Dean couldn't help but feel that he was growing inextricably closer to finally finding a cure for Sam. It seemed just out of reach, so tempting and promising, if only he was willing to go a little bit further.

Dean silently promised his brother that when all this was over and Sam was back to normal again, they'd go on a long overdue vacation, somewhere warm and sunny. Florida, maybe, or Hawaii. They had only ever been out of the country once- on a trip to Scotland to secure Crowley's remains and use them against the demon- but maybe this time they'd travel to Europe. Dean thought he could even get over his fear of flying to give Sam the chance to see Seville or Vienna or Paris.

Dean turned away from the parking lot, closing the motel room door behind him. He shuffled over to his own bed and sat down. He was tired but knew he wouldn't get anymore sleep, even if he tried.

Dean stared at the blank, black face of the television from where it sat on the bureau but decided he didn't want the noise right then. Instead, Dean turned to face his brother, watching the steady rise and fall of Sam's chest and prayed that today would be a better day.

**Author's Note:**

**1. Chapter title comes from a King Crimson song of the same name.**

**2. Thanks to LeighAnnWallace, SPN Mum, Samstruck, and LAHH for reviewing.**

**3. Thanks to everyone who alerted/favourited/followed.**

**4. Please leave a review! I love to read your comments!**


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven: Memory Lane

Dean tried not to fidget impatiently.

The three of them had been sitting in Dr. Plummer's office for ten minutes and Sam had not said 'boo' to Taylor since the brothers had stepped through the door.

The doctor looked about to make a comment on the White Sox or something when Sam finally began to talk.

"He'd pretend to be Dean. Sometimes I'd know it wasn't real but other times… I'd forget," Sam spoke as though he was ashamed.

Dean felt rage flare up inside him. Even though he knew- from spending weeks watching helplessly while his brother hallucinated- that the Devil used him to torture Sam, Dean didn't think he'd ever get over it. He wanted to stab a Seraph Blade right through that son of a bitch's black heart.

Dean reached over and gave his brother's wrist a comforting squeeze.

Sam cast his eyes downward, staring intently at his sneakers.

"Don't you dare feel bad about it, Sammy," Dean practically growled and Sam's head shot up.

"It's not your fault," Dean continued and moved his hand from his brother's wrist until his fingers were twined in his brother's. Normally Dean would never think of holding hands with Sam- he had only done so when his brother had been very young- but he knew his sibling needed all the comfort he could get and chick-flick moments be damned.

Dean's mouth turned down in a frown when he saw his brother's gaze travel to the other side of the room. Dr. Plummer's eyes followed the boy's line of sight and he spoke up, "Maybe we should call it a day."

Dean took hold of Sam's chin and forced his head, made sure that Sam was looking at _him._

A look of confusion crossed Sam's face and Dean gave a long-suffering sigh. Dean's fingers found the palm of his brother's left hand and he pressed down, ever so slightly, on the scar there.

"Remember, Sam? _This _is real. This means you're okay, you're Topside," Dean whispered to his brother.

Sam blinked, eyes darting to the opposite end of the office and back to his brother's face, "Yeah, I know. I know now, Dean."

Dean relaxed somewhat and turned his attention to the psychiatrist.

"Let's call it a day," Dr. Plummer suggested again and Dean nodded. It was definitely going to take more than one meeting to get Sam to open up about his time in Hell.

"Sammy, you okay to wait in the reception area?" Dean asked as he stood up and stretched. His stomach gave a loud growl. They had rushed to Dr. Plummer's office as soon as it had opened- Sam had grown more lucid after sleeping for a few hours- and the boys hadn't had the chance to eat anything. Dean was still a little bit embarrassed about calling the old man earlier that morning but it seemed to have done some good. Dr. Plummer now had a better understanding of what was happening to the youngest Winchester.

"Uh… Yeah," Sam nodded hesitantly and stepped outside, closing the door behind him.

Once Sam was out of earshot, Dean turned to the doctor.

"What do you think? I know that getting him to talk about what happened is going to be like pulling teeth but… well…" Dean looked askance at Dr. Plummer, waiting for some advice from the professional.

Dr. Plummer nodded in sympathy and cleared his throat.

"If it's alright with you, I'd like to try something," the older man offered, "It might help Sam talk about his experience a little easier."

"What is it?" Dean asked, leaning forward as though the movement would help him hear the doctor's answer better.

"Hypnosis," the doctor said and Dean held back a laugh.

"You mean like a magician's trick or something?" Dean's voice turned incredulous and he folded his arms over his chest.

Taylor shook his head, "Not quite like that, Dean. Hypnosis is usually used to uncover repressed memories but I think it would also help your brother talk about Hell. The hypnotized person does not often recall the events they experience during the procedure."

Dean still wasn't completely convinced, "But Sam might… because he is… he's remembering everything and it's killing him."

Dr. Plummer nodded, "Sam is very unwilling to talk but hypnosis might help you _and _I to understand a bit more of what he's going through and that may help us find some way to help him in the long-run."

Dean sighed. This was just a way to get Sammy talking. He wasn't sure he liked it though.

"I want to help your brother, Dean. But I can't unless I know what's troubling him," Dr. Plummer insisted.

"Okay, okay, I get it," Dean grumbled, "I just don't like the idea of hypnotizing him, that's all. Just seems a little witchy to me."

The psychiatrist looked a little amused, "I'm no David Copperfield but I am confident this will help Sam open up and perhaps we won't even need to use hypnotism after a few sessions."

Dean nodded. His hoped this hypnotism worked. He wasn't too keen on it and decided that once he and Sam went back to the motel he'd talk to his brother about it and maybe Sam would agree to just talk openly without having the doctor do anything to him.

"Okay, Doc. I'm trusting you on this," Dean said by way of a goodbye, "We'll see you tomorrow."

_W_

Dean watched Sam as his brother sipped from a bottle of vanilla Ensure. Dean had really wanted Sam to eat something substantial and had driven them to a McDonalds for Egg McMuffins as soon as they left Dr. Plummer's office.

The smell of coffee and bacon had been cloying as they entered the fast-food joint and Dean had been eager to pig-out on the greasy breakfast items.

Sam, on the other hand, had looked around at the families and employees before his face turned grey.

Realizing that McDonalds wasn't the best place for his brother, Dean apologized and rushed them back to the motel room.

"Are you sure you don't want any?" Dean asked as he offered the box of Arrowroot cookies to his brother.

Sam shook his head. Dean continued munching on the cookies, keeping a sharp eye on his brother.

Since Sam's early-morning episode that had forced Dean to call Dr. Plummer, the young man seemed fairly steady. Dean wasn't going to take chances though. He knew hallucinations could occur out of the blue, triggered by something completely innocuous and could last from minutes to hours.

But Sam's hanging on, Dean thought proudly. Throughout everything that had happened, Dean's brother was still fighting.

For how much longer though? Dean wondered with trepidation. How much longer could Sam hold onto his quickly fraying sanity?

Dean was astonished that Sam had even made it this for- he felt guilty for thinking so- and prayed that his brother would manage to stay in one piece for just a little while longer.

Dean was pulled from his thoughts when his brother choked and stared at the blue-labeled bottle of vitamin supplement as if it contained battery acid.

"Sammy," Dean said quietly and stood up. Sam set the bottle down on the dresser between the two beds with shaking fingers.

Dean ground his teeth and moved to sit beside his brother. Sam had lost the colour in his face and Dean feared he was going to be sick. He didn't know what had just happened, what had caused Sam to react negatively to the drink but Dean didn't have to bet all the money in his wallet to know that Lucifer was fucking with his brother again.

Suddenly Dean didn't care that Lucifer was just a hallucination, he had had enough.

"What the hell's your problem? Huh? Is this fun for you?" Dean snarled out loud. Sam turned to stare at him with wide eyes.

"Dean, don't," Sam grabbed his brother's sleeve and curled ice-cold finger around his wrist, "You'll make him mad."

"Make him mad?" Dean growled, "Who is he to be mad? You're the one who has a right be pissed Sammy! You're the one who everyone's always gunning for! You're the one who always ends up getting hurt in the end! Why should Lucy be angry? Because you ruined his chance to get his ass kicked by his big brother?"

"Dean," Sam whispered, his death-grip on Dean's wrist did not ease, "He'll send you away. He'll hurt me."

Dean paused and looked at his sibling. Sam had tears in his eyes and red spots high up on his pale cheeks.

Dean gripped his brother's wrists in his hands, "It's not real, Sammy. For God's sake you've gotta know that. It's all in your head. Lucifer cannot hurt you because he's still trapped in his Cage and you're Topside."

Sam shook his head, his tears overflowing as Dean continued to speak, "I don't know how to make you remember but I got you out, Sammy. You're free. That son of a bitch can't hurt you ever again. I won't let him."

"Dean," Sam's voice was reedy with fear and Dean hugged his younger brother to his chest. He raised a hand and held the back of Sam's head, his fingers twining in his long hair.

Dean gave a shuddering sigh and felt dampness on his cheeks as tears spilled from his own eyes. He felt so helpless, so useless and it was killing him inside. It had always been his job to protect Sammy and when he couldn't he felt lost, inadequate. If he had done something different, maybe his brother would be healthy right now. Maybe… maybe… maybe…

Maybe Dean should take Sam to a hospital. Everything inside Dean balked at the idea but he was beginning to think that he would end up having to do just that when push came to shove. At least a hospital would have people who could take care of Sam when Dean couldn't.

Maybe Dean should put Sam out of his misery. This was no way for his brother to live and killing him would be the most humane thing Dean could do.

Maybe a part of Dean didn't want to give up on Sam, would not give in. They always made it through the bad times, somehow, miraculously and this time was no different. Dean would keep fighting; he would keep fighting even if Sam lost the battle.

The part of Dean that was defiant, that refused to give up, especially on his brother, was small however, and growing smaller by the hour. The longer Dean watched Sam suffer the more he just wanted to give in and take the coward's way out. The longer Dean waited the more his father's last words forced their way into his mind: _If you can't save Sam, than you'll have to kill him._

No, I can't do that. I won't do that, Dean vowed. I'll find a way to fix Sammy and if I can't I'll take care of him like I always do.

_W_

Dean stared between Dr. Plummer and his brother. Sam was lying on his back on the couch in Taylor's office, his hands limp at his sides and his eyes closed.

"Are you sure this will work?" Dean asked from his seat beside the doctor, feeling hesitant about having his brother hypnotized.

The old man nodded, "I am sure it will. Dean, I need silence though."

Dean didn't speak as he waited for the doctor to start.

"Okay Sam, I'm going to count back from ten and you're going to start feeling sleepy," Dr. Plummer informed the younger man, "When I get to one you'll be completely asleep. Do you understand?"

Sam nodded his understanding. Dean could see his brother's brow furrow with worry.

"Ten- you're starting to feel drowsy- nine, eight- you're starting to relax even more, seven, six, five- you're almost fully asleep now- four, three, two, and one- you're asleep totally- can you still hear me?" Dr. Plummer said and Dean was surprised at how calm his brother looked now.

"Yes," Sam murmured; his voice soft and slightly slurred.

"Okay, Sam, I want you to think back to almost two years ago to that old cemetery in Kansas," Dr. Plummer said and Dean gave him a curious look.

"Stull Cemetery," Sam muttered quietly, "I don't want to go back there."

"It's alright Sam," Dr. Plummer soothed, "You're just remembering and memories can't hurt you, okay?"

"Yeah," Sam agreed, "Can't hurt me."

Dean leaned forward in his seat, elbows digging into his knees. He had told Dr. Plummer all about Sam's idea to take on Lucifer singlehandedly and the events in Detroit and Lawrence.

"Okay, what was the last thing you remember before falling?" Dr. Plummer asked, voicing his question carefully.

"Dean," Sam sighed, "I told him that everything was going to be okay."

Dean gulped and felt tears well up in his eyes as he too recalled that terrible moment, that terrible day.

"What happened then?" Dr. Plummer pressed onward.

Sam's brow furrowed, "Michael tried to stop me. Grabbed my arm. Tried to pull me back."

Taylor nodded and shifted in his chair, "That's good Sam. Do you remember what happened afterwards?"

"Yes," Sam's voice was barely audible and Dean turned concerned eyes onto to psychiatrist.

Dean was starting to have some major doubts about this whole thing. He didn't want Sam to have to relive what had happened to him in Hell. Sam already had to deal with hallucinations as it was; what good would it do to dredge up old memories?

"Doc," Dean began but Taylor held up a hand.

Dean would wait a little longer but if it looked like his brother was in trouble, he'd stop it.

"Okay, Sam," Dr. Plummer continued, his tone carefully devoid of emotion, "What happened after you fell?

"I…" Sam hesitated, "I don't know."

"What do you see?" Dr. Plummer rephrased the question.

"Nothing," Sam whispered, "It's dark."

"Why is it dark?"

"My eyes are closed," Sam replied and twitched as though he had a nervous tic.

"Why?" Dr. Plummer asked.

"I'm scared," Sam admitted.

"There's nothing to be scared of, Sam," Dr. Plummer reminded him, "You're memories cannot hurt you. Open your eyes. What do you see?"

Sam's breath hitched and he trembled visibly.

"Sam," Dr. Plummer spoke the young man's name cautiously.

Dean was forcing himself not to rush to his brother's side. He was scared, yeah, but he knew that Sam's memories couldn't hurt him and maybe what Dr. Plummer said was true and that reliving them through hypnosis make it easier for both brothers.

Sam didn't respond but his breathing grew fast-paced and shallow, his hands clenching into fists at his sides.

"Sam? Can you hear me?" Dr. Plummer asked and Sam gave a small cry of pain.

"Sammy!" Dean exclaimed but a look from the psychiatrist stopped him from leaping off his seat.

"Remember Dean," Taylor said in a professional tone, "Sam isn't in any danger. He won't come to any harm."

Dean, without taking his eyes from his younger sibling, nodded, "Yeah, I remember."

Sam whimpered and his head shifted from side to side. Sweat beaded his brow and ran down his face although the office was kept comfortable by the A/C.

"Sam, if you can hear me, answer," Dr. Plummer instructed but again received no response from the youngest Winchester.

Dean was sitting on the edge of his seat, one boot tapping staccato onto the floor as he fought every instinct he had that was telling him to go to his brother. He knew Sam wasn't in any real danger but he still didn't like how his behaviour indicated something was amiss.

"No," Sam moaned, pointing his face to the right as though trying to look away from something. He let out a gasp and then cried out in pain, his body trembling.

"No, please," Sam begged and Dr. Plummer tried desperately to get his patient's attention.

"Sam, nothing is happening to you," He said in a commanding voice, "You're safe."

"P-please don't, pl-please," Sam seemed deaf to the doctor's words.

"Doc, what's going on?" Dean asked fearfully, nervous gaze falling on the doctor's plump face.

Dr. Plummer shook his head, "He should be responding. This has never occurred before."

"Don't please," tears leaked from beneath Sam's closed eyes and Dean could no longer sit and watch. He crossed the small distance and crouched at his brother's side, grabbed Sam's hand and rubbed his knuckles with one hand.

"Shhh Sammy," Dean cooed, "It's okay."

Sam shuddered violently and a scream of pain erupted from him, causing Dean to stumble back with surprise.

"Doc, stop this! Wake him up!" Dean demanded as he desperately tried to calm his brother down.

Sam was choking he was crying so hard, begging his tormentor to stop and curled his legs up to his chest. Dean brushed his brother's bangs off his sweaty forehead and continued to speak soothingly to him.

The office door swung open and the startled-looking receptionist poked her head into the room, "Doctor, is everything alright?"

"YES! GET OUT!" Taylor snarled in confusion and frustration and the door slammed shut.

"Doc! Now!" Dean nearly yelled at the old man.

"Sam, I'm going to count downward from ten and when I get to one you'll feel fully awake and refreshed," Dr. Plummer rapped out, not even sure if the young man was hearing him.

"Ten- you're feeling more awake, nine, eight, seven- you're feeling even more awake- six, five, four- you're more aware of your surroundings- three, two, one- you're completely awake now," Dr. Plummer recited and slumped into his chair once he was finished, his blood pressure surely through the roof.

Sam had grown still as soon as the doctor had begun counting and once Taylor had finished, he opened his eyes and smiled when he saw his brother's face.

Dean helped Sam sit up on the couch and took a seat beside him.

"How you feeling?" Dean asked worriedly, combing stray stands of Sam's hair away from his face.

"Fine," Sam answered and lifted one hand to touch his cheek, puzzled at why his fingers came away wet, "What happened? Did the hypnosis work?"

Dean shook his head and slid a protective arm over his brother's shoulder, "We're not doing it again."

Sam nodded and lowered his gaze.

"Hey, it's nothing you did, Sammy," Dean told him immediately.

"I can't control the memories, Dean," Sam mumbled, "If I was stronger-"

"Sam, look at me," Dean lifted his brother's chin with his fingers, "You are strong. You're one of the strongest people I know. I wouldn't have been able to do even half the things you've done."

Sam smiled wanly and Dean nodded in a satisfied kind of way.

Turning his attention to the psychiatrist; Dean spoke, "Sorry, Doc, but we can't do this anymore. I think… I think I'm just going to take Sam home."

Dr. Plummer, his face bright red, nodded, "I'm sorry I couldn't help you boys."

Dean shook his head, "You've done everything I've asked."

Taylor stood and wiped his hands together, "At least let me give you a prescription. It might help with the hallucinations or it may not, but it never hurts to try, does it?"

Dean thanked the doctor as he wrote out a prescription for an anti-psychotic, an anti-depressant, and an over-the-counter sleep-aid.

Tearing off the page from the prescription pad, Dr. Plummer looked apologetically at the Winchesters, "What's Missouri going to do when I tell her I couldn't help you boys?"

Dean smirked, "Whack you upside the head with her spoon, probably."

The old psychiatrist chuckled but his expression turned sad, "It was good meeting you, both of you. I just wish something more could have come from this."

Once again, Dean shook his head, "We're friends and believe me, that's a big thing for us. We don't have many friends in our line of work, if you know what I mean."

Taylor nodded as he saw the Winchesters out of his office. The receptionist peered at them curiously from over the cover of her _Vogue _magazine. Dean kept one hand on his brother's back protectively while the other clutched the prescription Dr. Plummer had written up.

_SPN_

Sam tried to smile as he waited in the Camero. Dean had insisted he stay in the car while he went into their motel room to pack their duffle bags.

Sam supposed he should be happy they were going back to Whitefish but all he felt was a sinking feeling in his stomach.

_SPN_

It would take a little over a day to drive back to Whitefish and although Dean just wanted to get to Montana as fast as possible he knew that wasn't an option. Sam couldn't stay in the car for twenty-seven hours straight.

The idea of driving that stretch made Dean's back twinge in protest as he turned the Camero onto the onramp that would take them out of Chicago.

Two or three days tops should be fine, Dean decided as he turned on the radio. He sighed when Snow Patrol's 'Chasing Cars' came on but didn't change the station, preferring the sound to the silence in the vehicle.

**Author's Note:**

**1. Chapter titles comes from an Elliot Smith song of the same name.**

**2. Thanks to LeighAnnWallace, LAHH, SPN Mum, BranchSuper, sarah, jack62192, help789, and Samstruck for reviewing.**

**3. Thanks to everyone who alerted/favourited/followed.**

**4. Reviews keep me warm on cold November days!**


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve: Lean On Me

Dean stared at the cabin's front door for a long moment, his grip on the gun tightening.

The knocking sounded again and Dean jumped a little at the sudden noise. His boots creaked on the hardwood floor as he moved to the living room window and peered out.

"Son of a bitch," Dean whispered as he made out the figure of a woman standing on the front porch.

Keeping his weapon close by, Dean moved briskly to the door and yanked it open to reveal Sioux Falls' own Sheriff Jody Mills.

"I come in peace," she smiled and held up one hand, displaying a new cut oozing crimson blood.

Dean leaned against the doorframe, "What are you doing here, Sheriff?"

The woman's brow furrowed as she took stock of the hunter. She saw that he had dark circles underneath his eyes and stubble on his cheeks and chin. His hair looked like it hadn't been combed at all and stuck up with bed-head. His shirt wasn't buttoned properly and his shoulders slumped a little bit when they hadn't before.

"I haven't heard from you in weeks and you're wondering why I'm here?" Jody asked, trying not to sound angry.

Dean sighed, "I told you we can take care of ourselves."

"I'm sure you can, most of the time, but something tells me you might need a hand right now," Jody said lightly.

Dean raised an eyebrow, daring the Sheriff to tell him what he needed assistance with.

"You're fly's undone," Jody couldn't hide the smile as Dean peered down at his jeans and swore.

As Dean made himself a little more presentable, Jody tried to peer around him and into the interior of the cabin.

"Where's Sam?" she asked as Dean turned to face her again, a blush creeping across his stubbly cheeks.

"Sleeping," Dean told her and sighed, "You're not going to go away are you?"

Jody shook her head, "I had some unused vacation days I decided to take advantage of."

Shrugging, Dean moved out of the way so that the Sheriff could come inside.

"Be quiet, okay? I just got Sam to calm down," Dean said in an offhand manner.

Jody looked at Dean questioningly but the eldest Winchester's face was a closed book and he didn't elaborate.

"Do you want a beer? I think there's one or two left," Dean said, scratching the back of his head, "I don't really remember…"

Dean set his gun down on the counter casually, not giving the weapon a second glance as Jody followed him into the kitchen and sat down at the table. She looked at the pile of dirty dishes in the sink and caught a whiff of something rotten- possibly the garbage- in the stuffy air.

Dean rummaged around in the fridge, pushing aside bottles of Ensure and a tinfoil-wrapped plate, searching for the elusive beer cans.

"Don't worry about it if you don't have any," Jody told the young man.

Dean grumbled, frustrated and stood up, holding the fridge door open, "I could have sworn we still had a six-pack kicking around."

Jody's expression turned sympathetic and she got up, closing the refrigerator door herself.

"When was the last time you slept, Dean?" She asked and put a hand on the young man's arm.

"Got about three hours last night… four hours the night before that…" Dean calculated and Jody shook her head.

"You're nearly dead on your feet," she said, "Why don't you go upstairs and get some rest? You're clearly exhausted."

Dean shook his head, "I can't. I have to be there if Sam wakes up."

Jody put a hand on her hip, "Dean. Bed. Now."

"I have to take care of Sammy," Dean argued.

"You won't be able to look after your brother if you can't look after yourself," Jody reiterated.

Dean hesitated for a long moment before nodding.

"Make yourself at home. But… ah… stay down here," he suggested as he shuffled- yes, shuffled like an old man- out of the kitchen, through the living room and up the stairs.

Jody turned toward the sink slowly and stared out the window for a moment. She wondered what had happened since she had last seen Sam and Dean. Something was obviously not right. Maybe Sam was sick. But if that was true than why wasn't he in a hospital?

Unless it's something to doctors can't fix, Jody thought and pulled her dark brown hair into a ponytail. She knew that sometimes the terminally ill were sent home if they didn't want to die in some hospital bed.

Jody bent down and grabbed a bottle of dish soap from the cabinet and squirted a stream of the yellow liquid into the sink filled with dishes. She turned on the tap and let the water spray over the dirty plates and bowls and silverware.

Maybe they've just let Dean take Sam home because there's nothing more they can do, Jody thought and felt tears sting her eyes.

She may not know the Winchesters all that well but her heart went out to them. Bobby had always spoken highly of them and Jody couldn't imagine the two brothers having to go through something like that all alone.

Jody recalled the weeks following her son's death. Everyone had been so kind to her, offering their condolences and bringing over potluck dishes so she wouldn't have to cook for herself, but no one had actually wanted to stay with her. It seemed that once her friends and family had observed the proper niceties they vanished, leaving her with a husband who was growing more distant by the hour.

Jody wiped her forearm across her eyes and blinked rapidly, trying hard not to cry.

Sam and Dean had no friends or family anymore- Bobby had been their last- but Jody was not going to abandon them. She knew what it felt like to try handling things on her own and she knew how she had almost crumbled under the pressure. Jody could see the very same thing happening to Dean. The boys needed help and Jody was the only one left who could offer it.

I may not be able to fix what's wrong, Jody thought with determination, but I can lighten the burden a little.

The only sound in the tiny kitchen was the splash of sudsy water, the clink of dishes against one another and the quiet swish of a tea towel as Sheriff Mills set to work.

_SPN_

Sam was almost happy when the Camero crossed the state line into Montana. Dean looked exhausted but he didn't say anything and Sam was grateful for that.

Dean had wanted to take a break at every rest stop they passed but Sam would shake his head so they just continued driving. Eventually Dean got the idea and drove straight on until they reached Montana, finding that he too wanted nothing more than to see Rufus' old log cabin.

Sam had fallen to staring out the passenger window some time ago so Dean just listened to the radio quietly, humming along to the Rolling Stones' 'Wild Horses'.

Dean had no idea what he was going to do now. Clearly there was no help for Sam. Dean wasn't even sure what use Dr. Plummer's prescription would be, now that he had time to think about it. Dean supposed all they could do was live with the hallucinations, like they'd been doing. But what kind of life was that for Sam, really?

Dean bit the inside of his cheek as he drove; he hated seeing his brother suffer, especially if there wasn't anything he could do to stop it but there was no way in hell Dean would ever think of putting Sam out of his misery- like he was Old Yeller or something- even if did seem the most humane thing to do.

Tears of frustration and anger welled up in Dean's eyes as he thought about the very limited choices that now lay ahead of them.

I failed you, Sammy; Dean thought sorrowfully. I promised to fix this and I couldn't. I'm a failure.

_W_

Dean felt no sense of relief when he turned off the main road in Whitefish and drove down the familiar tree-lined stretch toward the cabin.

Sam hadn't moved or made any sound and Dean was beginning to wonder if he'd zoned out again, like he had at Missouri's.

The Camero cleared the dirt road and Dean pulled into the cabin's wide driveway.

"Sammy? Hey, we're home, buddy," Dean said softly and was comforted when Sam turned to him and one side of his mouth lifted in a half-smile.

"Thanks Dean," Sam said quietly and opened his door, stretching as he stood.

Dean locked the Camero and moved to go inside the cabin, make himself a sandwich, maybe even get a beer and recline on the couch for a few hours when he turned to see his brother sit down in the grass beside the driveway.

"What're you doing, Sam?" Dean asked, one foot on the porch steps, the other still on the dirt drive.

Sam didn't answer for a moment. He reached out one hand and brushed it through the grass that was in dire need of a cutting.

"Sammy?" Dean called, trying to get his brother's attention.

Without looking at his older brother, Sam answered, "I forgot what the grass felt like."

Dean took his foot off the step and approached his brother, a lump in his throat.

"Hey, it's okay," Dean said automatically, "We got you out."

Sam nodded, "I know but I have to _remind _myself, you know. Now that the trick with my hand doesn't work so well I need something else."

"Okay," Dean answered and laid a hand on his brother's shoulder.

Still not looking at his sibling, Sam took Dean's hand from his shoulder and placed it on the warm grass. Dean was forced to crouch down as Sam lowered his hand so as not to fall on his face. The lump in Dean's throat seemed to double in size and his eyes suddenly felt much too hot.

"I'm glad to be back here too," Dean said thickly and stood, wiping grass off his hands. He retreated, feeling slightly uncomfortable and let Sam have some privacy.

Sitting on the bottom step, Dean watched as Sam continued to run his long fingers through the grass, his shoulders curled in defensively.

When Sam spoke again, Dean started a little at the sudden sound, "Did you ever forget, Dean?"

Dean did forget. He thought he'd never be able to feel anything ever again other than pain. All he knew back then were the hooks and the blades and the flames. Every memory of something as simple as the feel of summer grass had been obliterated from his mind. All he remembered or would remember was agony. Even when he was given the knife and the chance to make someone else feel as awful as he did, it didn't compare, could never compare to the feeling of being alive because he was dead inside.

Dean remembered when he had first been resurrected by Castiel and how he had relished the sun on his skin, the wind tugging at his clothes, even the dirt in his hair because that meant he was feeling something other than misery. It meant he was _alive. _

Dean didn't realize that tears had dripped down his face and were landing in the dust between his boots. He swiped a hand over his eyes, sniffed as quietly as possible and shook his head. Dean had to stay focused on his brother and help him through his Hell. Now was not the time to be reminiscing about his own tour.

"Sammy? You okay? Wanna go inside?" Dean asked in a kindly voice.

Sam looked over his shoulder, "Sure, Dean."

Dean stepped over to his brother again and held out a hand which Sam accepted gratefully.

"Maybe you'll feel up to eating something?" Dean asked hopefully as he helped his brother stand up.

_W_

Dean smiled at Sam as he set a bowl of chicken noodle soup in front of him. It was the salty Lipton packaged stuff but Dean figured it was better than nothing.

Sam mumbled his thanks; his attention elsewhere and swept his spoon through the yellow soup without eating it.

Dean sat across from his brother with his own bowl and began slurping the hot, salty soup with gusto.

"Sam!" Dean said loudly and his brother turned to look at him, "Eat up before you're soup goes cold."

Sam, looking like he'd only just realized where he was, nodded and lifted the spoon to his mouth.

_W_

Dean divided his attention between the TV screen and his sleeping brother. Sam was curled up beside him on the couch, one of Dean's arms around his shoulders.

Dean brushed some hair away from his brother's face and turned his attention to the television. He was only really interested in the news, checking to see if anything could be attributed to Roman or his buddies but all seemed quiet on the western front.

Dean grabbed the TV remote from where he'd left it on the cushion beside him and flicked the OFF button. Leaning his head against the back of the couch, Dean closed his eyes, hoping to get some sleep himself while his brother dozed beside him.

_SPN_

Jody looked up when she heard the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs. She had finished washing and drying all the dishes that had been in the sink- they were now sitting in neat piles on the counter, waiting to be put away- and had been about to investigate the source of that unpleasant odor she had caught a whiff of earlier.

Dean peered into the kitchen and raised his eyebrows, "When I said you could make yourself at home I didn't mean for you to _act _like this was your house."

Jody smiled at Dean's remark, "I came here to help you, Dean, and I can hardly do that if I'm sitting on the couch with a Long Island Iced Tea and watching _Days of Our Lives_."

Dean snorted with laughter, "You didn't have to do the dishes though."

Jody shrugged, "I don't mind."

Dean nodded and entered the kitchen, crossing to the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of Ensure and a can of Pepsi.

Jody watched Dean sympathetically, "How is Sam?"

"Uh… sleeping," Dean answered without looking at the sheriff, "He's exhausted."

Jody nodded and turned to put the dishes away, giving Dean some privacy. She wanted to ask the young man what was wrong with his brother but did not want to pry. It was clear that Dean was not about talk to her either so Jody let it be. She was sure she would find out eventually.

Jody sniffed as she put a stack of plates back in the cupboard and turned to find Dean still standing in the kitchen, watching.

"Are you alright, Dean?" Jody asked and approached the young man.

Dean shook his head sadly and stared at the bottle of Ensure he was holding in one hand, the soda momentarily forgotten.

_SPN_

Sam stared at the clothes lying strewn on the floor of his bedroom- jeans and t-shirts and long-sleeved shirts- and turned to peer suspiciously into the empty dresser drawer.

"Lose something, Sammy?" Lucifer asked from his perch on the end of Sam's bed.

Sam ignored him and bent down to search through the clothes scattered on the floor for a second time.

"Maybe you should pray to St. Anthony. I hear he's the go-to guy if you've lost something," Lucifer suggested but Sam continued to ignore the Devil.

Sam picked up a pair of jeans, turned out its pockets and shook his head sadly, throwing the pants across the room so that they hit the wall and landed in a crumpled mess.

"Are you ignoring me now?" Lucifer asked, "Don't ignore me Sam."

Sam's gaze darted to the Devil and back to the clothes. He couldn't think straight with Lucifer constantly talking to him.

But he's not real, Sam reminded himself, he's just a figment of my imagination.

"Oh really?" Lucifer asked as though reading Sam's mind, "How can you be absolutely sure I'm all in your head?"

"Dean said you were," Sam acknowledged the Devil and Lucifer smiled, finally getting attention, "Dean said he got me out."

Lucifer nodded sagely, index finger against his lips, "And big brother always tells the truth? What if _Dean _is the figment and this is all some game _I_ designed?"

Sam froze, hesitated. Dean was always telling him that he was out of the Cage and that this was real and Sam had to believe his brother, had to trust him like he had always done.

"I am free," Sam whispered, tears welling up in his eyes and a lump lodging in his throat.

Lucifer chuckled, shaking his head, leaving Sam confused once again as to what was real and what was all a part of his addled brain's attempt to cope with events it could not possibly begin to.

_SPN_

Jody's eyes pricked with tears and she pulled the young man into a hug. She could feel him shaking in her arms.

"Dean?" Jody asked, "Let me help you, please."

The hunter sighed and the Sheriff released her hold on him. Dean sat down at the kitchen table, opened the can of soda and stared at it for a moment.

Jody brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear and took a seat across from the eldest Winchester. Idly, her hand reached out and turned the bottle of Ensure around and around.

"Can you tell me about Sam?" Jody asked quietly, trying not to push.

Dean lifted the Pepsi to his lips and gulped down half its contents. He rasped a hand over his stubble-covered chin and stared at the Sheriff for a long moment.

Dean opened his mouth to speak, shut it again and shook his head.

"I don't even know where to begin," he muttered and abruptly snatched the bottle of Ensure away from Jody, startling her.

"I'm sorry," Dean apologized and crushed the soda can in his fist, its contents leaking down his hand to drip onto the table.

Jody inhaled sharply and felt herself draw inward, slightly frightened of the young man.

The hunter looked up suddenly; head turning toward the kitchen doorway, and he frowned.

"What-" Sheriff Mills began but her question was cut off as Dean bolted out of the room and toward the stairs. Some big-brother sense must have alerted the eldest Winchester because the Sheriff had not heard a sound.

Fearing something was wrong; Jody followed Dean, taking the stairs two at a time as he did.

"Dean!" Jody spoke as the hunter hurried down the hallway and opened a door at the end.

Jody followed the young man into the room. It was the moment of truth, Jody realized, finally she would know what had happened to these boys since Bobby Singer's funeral. Dean could no longer be evasive if Jody saw his brother for herself.

_SPN_

Dean stared at the pile of clothes on the floor and stepped inside his brother's room carefully.

"I know I need to do laundry, Sammy," Dean joked, "You didn't have to send up the Bat Signal."

Sam didn't smile or laugh, instead his eyes darted to the end of his bed and back to his brother.

"I can't find it," he whispered, sounding hopeless.

Dean frowned, "Can't find what?"

Sam sniffed and rubbed at one eye with his hand.

"Sammy?" Dean trod on a plaid long-sleeved shirt as he crossed the room to his brother, "Hey, what's wrong? Talk to me, man."

"Bobby's number," Sam lowered his gaze, picking at a loose threat at the hem of his t-shirt, "I can't find Bobby's number."

"Oh Sam," Dean sighed. Sam must want his phone number. Maybe he's forgotten that Bobby's… that Bobby's not here anymore.

"Bobby's gone," Dean reminded his brother as gently as possible, "I know how you feel though, sometimes I just want to call him, to hear his voice and-"

Sam was shaking his head, "His number, Dean. Bobby's last number."

Dean blinked, confused for a second before he realized what Sam was talking about. Sam wanted the number he'd written down on that scrap of paper. Dean's heart began to pound as he tried to recall when he'd last seen it. Dean had a horrible feeling that in his worry over his brother's hallucinations and the subsequent road trips to Kansas, Arkansas and Illinois the paper had been forgotten in a pair of jeans and had gone through the wash.

"Did you look everywhere?" Dean asked even though it was clear from the garments carpeting the floor that Sam had already done so.

"It's gone!" Sam lamented sadly, his right hand traveling to his left, his thumb pressing down on the scar on his palm.

Dean ran a hand through his hair and sighed, trying to think of what to do.

"Do you remember what the number was? I can write it down again for you," Dean suggested.

Sam bit his lip and shook his head sadly, "It won't be the same."

"Aw Sam, I'm sorry," Dean apologized but really had no idea how to make his brother feel better.

Dean couldn't think of anything else to say so instead he bent down and grabbed a handful of rumpled clothes off the floor. He dumped an armload of clothes on his brother's bed and began folding them- there was no point in making an extra trip to the Laundromat if the clothes weren't filthy- as Sam watched, still pressing down on his left palm.

_SPN_

Sam was sitting up in bed, his legs drawn up to his chest and his arms wrapped around his knees, left hand wrapped in clean, white gauze.

Jody remained in the doorway as Dean crossed to his brother's side. The younger brother was clearly ill; his skin was a sickly pale grey hue, his eyes were red-rimmed and bloodshot and he was thin.

The Sheriff watched in mute astonishment as Sam cringed away from his brother. Dean sat down on the edge of the bed, speaking words of comfort, but made no move to touch Sam.

"You're not Dean," Jody heard Sam whimper and her eyebrows arched.

Jody's ears pricked up with morbid curiosity and she found herself leaning forward slightly as though to catch every word.

"I am, Sammy," Dean whispered, "It is me. I'm not gonna hurt you."

"You're lying," Sam breathed; his voice barely audible.

"No I'm not," Dean insisted, "I'm the real Dean, I'm the one who ran out of our burning house with you, I'm the one who always made your lunches for school, I'm the one who taught you how to drive the Impala-"

Sam was shaking his head, "Stop pretending. I know you're not really Dean, so just stop. Please."

Jody felt her legs move of their own accord as she approached the two brothers.

Dean looked up and spoke the Sheriff's name warningly.

Jody ignored the young man and turned her attention to Sam.

_SPN_

Sam tiptoed down the hallway, his footsteps silent. The darkness in the house hid him from imagined enemies. Lucifer followed behind him, equally silent and stealthy.

Sam opened the bathroom door and slipped inside, turning on the light only after he closed the door. Lucifer sat down on the closed lid of the toilet, watching Sam with interest.

"What's the matter, Sammy?" Lucifer asked, not bothering to lower his voice, "Can't sleep?"

"Shut up," Sam mumbled and slid open the bathroom cupboards, searching.

"Maybe you'd get some rest if you took _all _those sleeping pills," Lucifer suggested, grinning like the Cheshire Cat.

Sam turned to the Devil, "What sleeping pills?"

Lucifer scoffed, "Don't tell me you haven't figured it out yet!"

Sam stopped his search and eyed Lucifer suspiciously, "I haven't been taking any sleeping pills."

Lucifer chuckled, his blue eyes gleaming, "Dean thought he was so clever. But nothing gets past me. I'm not called the Great Deceiver for nothing; I wouldn't be living up to my title if I didn't recognize another trickster when I saw one."

Sam didn't say anything so the Devil continued.

"Dean's been giving you pills on the sly, Sammy-boy," Lucifer informed him, "He's been doing it for quite a while actually."

"Dean wouldn't do that," Sam argued, whispering angrily.

"Why not? You're so busy losing your marbles that Dean probably thinks he'll get away with it, that you won't notice," Lucifer smirked, "And you didn't. I did."

"You're lying," Sam hissed, "Dean wouldn't do something like that!"

Dean would never slip his brother pills, Dean would tell Sam.

"Oh don't look so betrayed," Lucifer chastised, leaning back so that his spine cracked, "Dear big brother was only thinking of you. He knew you needed sleep and drugging you into Dreamland was the only way you wouldn't have nightmares."

Sam thought about earlier that evening when Dean had brought him a glass of warm milk and had insisted he drink it. Sam had just assumed his brother was worried because he wasn't eating very much again. But what if Lucifer was right? Sam was always so tired nowadays that he likely would not notice if he fell asleep as a result of chemicals instead of from exhaustion.

Still, Sam couldn't help but feel like Dean had stabbed him in the back somehow. Dean had always gotten mad at Sam for keeping secrets and now Dean was doing the exact same thing to him.

"Dean could have told me, asked me first," Sam whispered and Lucifer nodded as though he sympathized.

"I'm afraid not," Lucifer said, "Dean's been lying to you."

"Dean doesn't lie," Sam insisted, knowing it was useless fighting with a figment of his imagination but being unable to resist.

Lucifer leaned forward, "Dean's a liar, Sam. Your own brother is pulling the wool over your eyes."

Sam's hands clenched into fists, "Dean must have had a good reason not to tell me."

"If that's what you want to believe," the Devil sighed as if the conversation was starting to bore him.

With one last glance at the fallen angel, Sam turned back to the cupboards and found what he needed. Kneeling down, Sam grabbed the First Aid Kit and set it on the edge of the sink. He flipped the clasps open and surveyed the box's contents.

Sam pushed aside a roll of gauze and smiled triumphantly when he saw the small pair of scissors used to cut thread and gauze gleaming at the bottom of the container.

Lucifer leaned forward, "What are you doing?"

Sam held the scissors for a moment; they looked so tiny in his hand. He slid them open slowly and lifted his left palm, examining the scar that marred its flesh.

"We've already been through this Sam," Lucifer spoke up, "You're not going to make me go away by giving yourself a paper cut."

Sam ignored the Devil and laid one of the blades against his skin. Sam closed his eyes for a moment before pressing down.

Crimson blood immediately welled up against the scissor's blade as Sam forced it deeper and deeper into his hand. Sam pushed until the entire tiny blade had sunk into his palm.

The pain caused Sam to double over, gritting his teeth as he moved the blade to slice the scar open.

A sob escaped Sam and he froze, listening for his brother. Blood pattered onto the floor but Lucifer did not leave.

"I told you Sam," He chortled, "Didn't I tell you?"

"God damn it! Won't you just shut the fuck up for one minute?!" Sam snapped and dropped the scissors.

Sam held his breath as he heard footsteps pound down the hallway toward him.

"Sammy?" Dean's voice came from the other side of the door, "Are you okay?"

"I'm f-fine," Sam squeezed the words out as tears squeezed from his eyes. He held his left hand to his chest, blood streaming down his arm, staining his clothes, the pain white-hot.

"You better be decent 'cause I'm coming in," Dean said and the doorknob wobbled.

_SPN_

Jody's maternal instincts- dormant since her little boy's death, it seemed- roared to life at the sight of Sam Winchester. He looked so small, so scared, so vulnerable.

"Hi Sam," Jody smiled as she approached, making sure to have eye contact with the young man.

Sam stared at the Sheriff unsurely for a moment before he cautiously reached out his right hand. Once Jody was close enough, she wrapped her hand around Sam's icy fingers.

Dean stood on the opposite side of the bed, jaw clenched tight and eyes taking in every one of Jody's movements.

"You're real," Sam stated and his hold on Jody's hand tightened.

Jody smiled, "Yeah, I am. And Dean is too."

She didn't really understand what was wrong with Sam but it was obvious he needed reassurance, badly.

Sam looked over at his sibling as if seeing him for the first time. Jody followed the young man's gaze and saw that Dean actually looked less tense than before. His jaw was no longer tight, his shoulders sagged slightly and he had relieved expression on his face.

"Do you have any more blankets, Dean?" Jody asked, rubbing Sam's chilly hand.

Dean lifted his eyes to the Sheriff, "Yeah, I'll go get one."

Jody watched as the older Winchester brother walked out of the room, his footsteps audible as he made his way down the hall.

The Sheriff turned her attention back to Sam and smiled encouragingly.

"You're brother cares a lot about you, Sam," Jody said and the young man ducked his head, his long bangs obscuring his eyes.

One of the wooden floorboards creaked as Dean entered the room, a fluffy wool blanket folded in his hands.

"Let me," Jody released Sam's hand and offered to take the blanket. Dean shook his head and unfolded it, spreading it over the blanket already covering his brother when Sam laid down.

"This should keep you toasty," Dean tucked in the corners of the wool blanket, a knowing expression on his face as he did so.

Jody couldn't help the smile that tugged at the corners of her mouth when Dean reached out and ran a hand through his younger brother's long locks. Sam closed his eyes at the touch, the ghost of a smile on his pale lips.

"Try and get some rest, okay Sammy?" Dean suggested and although Sam looked dubious, nodded and settled down under the covers.

_SPN_

Dean couldn't help but feel just a little bit jealous of Jody as he watched Sam respond positively to her.

Dean was the one who spent all day and night looking after his brother, sitting up with Sam when he couldn't sleep, comforting him when he had a nightmare, reassuring him after he had hallucination.

Jody had held Sam's hand for less than five freaking minutes!

Once Sam was asleep Dean and Jody made their way back downstairs.

The eldest Winchester was sure he was going to have to answer some tough questions, if the look on the Sheriff's face was anything to go by.

Dean led the way into the kitchen, made a beeline for the coffee maker. He grabbed the can of grounds and a filter from the overhead cupboard and proceeded to prepare the beverage without speaking. He listened as a chair scraped against the linoleum floor- Jody sitting down- and the soft sigh that followed.

Dean turned around, back pressed against the counter and looked pointedly at the Sheriff.

Jody was fiddling with a loose strand of hair; her eyes had a sad, pensive look in them.

The coffee maker had begun to gurgle wetly and hiss before Jody asked her first question.

_SPN_

Sam knew Dean was pissed at him, he could see it in the way his brother's expression was closed and dark.

They were sitting at the kitchen table while Dean sewed up the wound Sam had made with the scissors. Dean was as gentle as ever as he worked but his movements were jerky and tense.

"I'm sorry, Dean," Sam mumbled for the twelfth time.

"I know you are, Sammy," Dean grunted back his answer, his eyes not leaving his brother's hand.

"I thought he'd go away," Sam whispered. Dean didn't say anything.

"Dean-" Sam began but his brother interrupted him.

"I know why you did it, Sam!" Dean snapped, lifting his gaze for just a moment and Sam thought he saw hate in his older brother's eyes.

Sam gulped and didn't speak again. He watched his brother stitch up his hand and wrap it in fresh, white gauze.

Dean gathered up all the medical supplies and shoved them haphazardly back into the First Aid kit- the same one Sam had taken the scissors from- before pouring a glass of water from the kitchen sink.

Dean set the glass down in front of his brother, "Drink."

Sam wanted to say something; tell Dean he was sorry things had ended up like this, tell Dean he was sorry he wasn't strong enough to withstand Hell. Sam wanted to tell Dean he was sorry he-

"I'd keep my mouth shut if I were you," Lucifer smirked, leaning against the refrigerator, "Big brother looks about ready to draw blood."

Sam took the glass of water and stared at it for a moment.

There had been no water in the Cage. Sure, there had been snow and ice but there had never been water, not even to drown in.

"Sam," Dean's voice jolted him from the memory, "Just drink the water."

Sam brought the glass to his lips and took a sip. It was cool and crisp and refreshing.

"Do you remember how thirsty you got, Sammy-boy?" Lucifer asked. He was no longer leaning against the fridge but at the sink. He turned on the tap and let the water run over his long-fingered hand.

Sam tore his gaze away from the Devil and instead focused on his brother's face, no matter how stormy it looked.

"Water, water everywhere but not a drop to drink," Lucifer chanted in a sing-song voice.

Sam tipped the glass back and gulped down the rest of the water. He set it on the kitchen table with a soft _clink. _

"I'm sorry," Sam whispered softly and stared into his brother's eyes.

Dean folded his arms across his chest, not speaking but Sam could read the expression on his face as if his brother had shouted at him: _You disappoint me._

_SPN_

Dean seemed to wither before Jody's eyes as he told her all that had happened since he and Sam had left Sioux Falls.

Jody and Dean sat across from one another at the kitchen table, hands wrapped around mugs of coffee, the cabin eerily silent but for their quiet voices.

Jody, willing to accept the existence of monsters such as zombies and Leviathans, was finding it incredibly hard to grasp the idea of angels.

"But I thought angels were supposed to protect humans, guide us," Jody said and Dean shook his head.

"Maybe some of them do," Dean shrugged, "If so, well, I haven't met any of them."

Jody nodded, peering into her coffee mug.

_SPN_

Sam tried to sleep. He really did but Lucifer wouldn't let him.

"Dean's gonna leave you," the Devil said. He was sitting cross-legged at the end of Sam's bed. After dealing with the cut on his brother's palm, Dean had told Sam to go back upstairs. Sam hadn't argued and did as he was told. Dean though, hadn't made his way back to his room yet- Sam could hear him downstairs- making more noise than was surely necessary and wondered what his brother was doing.

"You've gone too far this time, Sammy," Lucifer continued, looking smug.

Sam glared at his unwanted guest, "You don't know Dean!"

Lucifer smiled, "I don't?"

Sam's eyes flicked towards the bedroom door, his thoughts on his brother, before returning to Lucifer.

Dean smiled at him from the end of the bed.

"Stop it," Sam demanded, "You're not my brother."

Dean slipped off the bed and stood, "What's with the long face, little bro?"

"Shut up!" Sam snapped but drew his knees up to his chest all the same.

Dean took a slow step forward, prolonging the torment (it wasn't Dean, it wasn't Dean, it wasn't Dean) while he continued smiling that same smile, hazel eyes boring into Sam's green ones.

Sam choked back a sob. He knew Dean (No! It was Lucifer!) was going to hurt him. Sam told himself over and over again this wasn't real but that didn't stop his heart from pounding in panicked terror.

"Dean!" Sam called; hoping his brother- his _real _brother- would hear him.

Dean (Lucifer) cocked his head to one side as though listening. Sam heard something hit the wooden floor downstairs.

"Dean's not coming, Sammy," Lucifer sneered with a sibilant hiss.

"DEAN!" Sam shouted, not caring if he seemed weak, he just wanted Lucifer to go away.

The Devil paused when the sound of boots stomping up the stairs carried into the room. Sam's heart gave a joyous leap and he sat forward almost eagerly.

Dean (the real Dean) pushed open his brother's door and stared at Sam for a moment.

"Dean," Sam spoke the name as though it were that of his savior.

His brother rubbed a hand down his cheek before speaking, "Go to sleep, Sam."

Stunned, Sam sat open-mouthed on the bed as his sibling left the door slightly ajar and headed downstairs without a second glance.

Lucifer, in the form of Nick once again, looked almost as shocked as Sam. He raised an eyebrow and whistled, "I wasn't expecting that."

_SPN_

"I can deal with the hallucinations and when he zones out. I can deal with his nonexistent appetite and, hell, Soulless Sam if I have to," Dean paused to take a deep drink from his mug of coffee, "I can even handle it when Sammy doesn't think I'm the real me, you know?"

Jody nodded. Her own coffee had grown cold but she hadn't made a move to get a fresh cup or ask Dean to.

"But… but I can't stand the thought that it's my fault Sammy's like this," Dean confessed, "I wish I could take it back, you know? I wish life had a Rewind button and I could go back to before and tell Sam that we'd find another way to beat the Devil, that I didn't want him to sacrifice himself, that I needed him Topside with me. I'm supposed to be the reckless one; I'm supposed to make the stupid decisions, not Sammy. I should ha-have d-d-done more. I sh-should have stopped him. I shouldn't have let my b-baby br-brother go like that."

Dean was choking back sobs now and Jody laid her hand on top of Dean's.

"I don't think it's your fault, Dean," Jody tried to comfort, "If it's anybody's fault, it's the angels' for backing you and Sam into a corner."

The young hunter sniffed and nodded. He wiped his sleeve over his eyes and stood wearily, "You, uh, want some more coffee?"

Jody shook her head, "I'm fine, thanks."

Dean fiddled with the coffee pot for a moment, taking longer than was necessary to pour a cup before he spoke up again, "I don't understand it; Sam's terrified of me some days, acting like I'm Lucifer but you show up and Sam doesn't freak out at all?"

Jody had no answer for Dean.

"I mean, we barely knew you before-" the young hunter began but stopped mid-sentence as realization dawned on him.

"What is it, Dean?" Sheriff Mills asked anxiously.

"That's it! We barely knew you before Sam took the plunge! You didn't make a big enough impression!" Dean exclaimed, thumping his coffee mug down on the kitchen table with more force than he meant to and the dark liquid sloshed over the rim.

Jody's face turned slightly insulted but Dean plowed on, "Lucifer pretended to be me while torturing Sam but you were never someone he used! Lucifer was using the people closest to Sam- that's why he wasn't scared, that's why he knew right away that you were real- and we only knew you for a few hours at the most! You were like the hundreds of other people we'd saved from monsters!"

"I'm glad I could be so helpful by being so forgettable," Jody said, her tone telling Dean she wasn't really offended.

The oldest Winchester looked like he could kiss the Sheriff but settled for hugging her. Surprised, Jody returns the gesture hesitantly at first but then more sincerely as she feels Dean melt into the embrace.

_SPN_

Sam crept down the stairs, keeping an eye out for his brother. Lucifer walked casually behind him- a now ever-present malignant shadow- and smirked as Sam checked to make sure the kitchen was empty before entering.

"Would it surprise you if Dean just high-tailed it away from this place in that big black car of his?" Lucifer asked Sam as the young man pulled out one of the kitchen chairs and sat down.

"Dean wouldn't leave me," Sam told the Devil and stared at the starburst clock on the wall for a moment- it was 6 AM- and wondered if his brother had even slept at all the night before. Sam hadn't. Not with Lucifer singing 'It's a Small World After All' over and over.

Sam picked at the bandage around his left hand for a moment before sighing and settling his head on his arms, propped on the tabletop.

_SPN_

Dean smiled as he rubbed the wax into the Impala's hood.

"That feels good, huh?" he spoke to the car as though it was listening but he didn't care. It was nice to talk to someone- something- other than his little brother sometimes.

Sam was just so sick and though Dean knew it wasn't his fault, he hardly spoke at all unless he was hallucinating and when that happened it was less a conversation and more of Dean trying to comfort his sibling or else convince him of what was reality.

The eldest Winchester had spent the previous night- after sewing up Sam's hand and sending him back to bed- going through the house and getting rid of all the dangerous objects he could find. Dean had packed up the pistols and rifles, the knives from the drawers and the ones in the butcher's block, all the medications, the scissors and glass jars or bottles in the fridge and pantry. Dean knew he was probably being paranoid but what would he have done if Sam had been slicing his wrist in the bathroom instead of his palm?

Dean had locked all the offending objects in the trunk of the Impala and proceeded to pamper his baby a little bit.

He hated the idea of leaving the Impala in the garage all the time, covered by a blue tarp, and gathering dust. He itched to get behind the wheel again and go for a drive- not far, of course, maybe just down the road and back- but he didn't forget he also had to stay close by in case Sam needed him.

Dean frowned. Sometimes it felt like Sam didn't need him, didn't want him around… especially when he was telling Dean he wasn't real or begging with him to not hurt him.

Dean sighed and stopped waxing the car. Sam did need him. Sam had always needed him, more than he needed Sam.

He stared down at the Impala for a moment, "Sorry girl, you'll take a rain-check, right?"

Dean gathered up the cloth and the bottle of wax and put it them back on the shelf in the garage where he'd found them.

Peering at his watch, Dean saw that it was nearly nine o'clock in the morning! Dean had been awake nearly the entire night!

"Could use a good strong cup of coffee," Dean muttered and ran a hand over his face, feeling stubble on his chin.

The eldest Winchester stomped up the porch steps and let the screen door slam behind him. He didn't bother with his boots and sauntered straight into the kitchen.

"Sam?" Dean startled, surprised that his brother was actually downstairs.

His brother lifted his head from the table and peered owlishly at him.

"What are you doing down here?" Dean asked, his coffee craving momentarily forgotten.

Sam flinched as if Dean had spoken accusatory words instead of question and rubbed at the bandage on his hand.

"I'm sorry, Dean," Sam muttered, "I'll go back upstairs if you-"

Dean's brow furrowed and he frowned, "Don't apologize, Sam. I just thought you'd be more comfortable in bed than sitting at the table."

Sam looked sheepishly at his brother for a moment.

"Are you hungry?" Dean asked, suddenly deciding that if Sam was in the kitchen- and lucid- he might as well eat something.

Sam hesitated before lifting one shoulder.

"I could make you oatmeal or eggs or toast," Dean suggested, hoping his brother would agree to eat _something._

"Toast," Sam breathed and Dean almost smiled. At least Sam was willing to try and eat instead of outright refusing.

Dean turned away from his brother and grabbed the toaster from underneath the counter, plugging it in and slipping four pieces of bread in- he hadn't had any breakfast yet either and he decided he should have something in his stomach as well.

Dean filled a coffee filter with grounds and turned the machine on to percolate. He kept his back to his brother as he worked and open the silverware drawer, cursing when he remembered he'd locked up all the knives with other 'dangerous' objects.

Acting as though it was natural, Dean turned his attention to the junk drawer and found a bag of plastic cutlery- probably from some old gathering or another that Rufus had hosted back in the day- and removed a white, non-threatening knife from the package.

Dean buttered his toast when it popped up but kept Sam's dry. He poured himself a cup of coffee and took a bottle of Ensure out of the fridge for his brother. Taking a couple of saucers from the cupboard, Dean set the table without saying a word.

Sam gave his brother a baleful look as Dean set his toast in front of him.

"You said you were hungry," Dean replied to his sibling's expression.

Sam's gaze traveled to the counter where the plastic knife sat imbedded in the stick of butter and back to his brother.

"Why didn't you use a regular knife, Dean? They can't all be dirty," Sam asked as Dean began munching his toast.

Thinking of a quick lie, Dean hoped to placate Sam, "Might as well use the plastic stuff since we have it. Besides, it makes for fewer dishes in the long run. Eat your breakfast before it gets cold."

Sam's expression turned suspicious and he eyed his toast without touching it.

_SPN_

Jody insisted on going into town on a supply run.

"You don't have to do that," Dean argued. He didn't want the Sheriff to think he was taking advantage of her.

"Dean," Jody said sternly, her I'm-The-Sheriff-In-Town expression on, "I told you before I was going to help and grocery shopping is _helping_."

The hunter bit his lip for a moment before nodding, "Just don't get carried away."

Jody smiled, "I'll try. Is there anything in particular I can get you?"

Dean shook his head, thinking of all the beer and pie he'd love to have in the fridge but knowing that was out of the question.

"Oh, wait for a moment," Dean said suddenly and rummaged through his wallet before pulling out a folded slip of paper.

"Can you go to the local pharmacy and get these medications for Sam?" Dean asked sheepishly.

He had been reluctant to leave his brother at home alone even to go into town and get Dr. Plummer's prescription filled.

"Of course, Dean," Jody said and took out her car keys.

The young hunter watched as the Sheriff of Sioux Falls got into her car and disappeared slowly down the drive and dared to hope that maybe Jody could be the help he'd been searching for all along.

**Author's Note:**

**1. Chapter title comes from a Bill Withers' song of the same name.**

**2. Thanks to LeighAnnWallace, SPN Mum, BranchSuper, Samstruck, nupinoop296, L.A.H.H, Lucydolly22, sarah, AlxM, jack62192, BonanzaRocks, and where the wind blows for reviewing.**

**3. Thanks to everyone who alerted/favourited/followed.**

**4. Please review! They warm me up when the days grow chilly. **


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen: How To Save A Life

Sam opened the cutlery drawer, frowning when he saw that the steak knives were missing.

Lucifer smirked from over Sam's shoulder. The young man looked up at the counter and saw that the butcher's block was empty.

"I think Dean took away everything sharp and pointy, Sammy," the Devil mocked as Sam slammed the cutlery drawer shut.

"Why would Dean do that?" Sam muttered to himself. First Dean lied to him about the sleeping pills and now his brother takes away the knives.

"Dean doesn't trust you as much as he used to," Lucifer answered Sam's question.

"I didn't do anything though," Sam rubbed at the bandage on his left hand, "I wasn't _trying _to hurt myself."

Lucifer raised an eyebrow, "You're preaching to the choir here, Sam."

The youngest Winchester ignored the Devil and walked slowly to the living room.

Dean was outside looking after the Impala and probably wouldn't be coming inside for a while. Sam sat down on the couch and pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes.

"Wanna watch some TV?" Lucifer asked and sat down right beside Sam.

"What I want is for you to leave me alone," Sam muttered mutinously under his breath. Lucifer frowned.

"I wonder what Dean would think if he came back inside and found you missing," the Devil pondered nonchalantly and Sam bit his lip.

He's not real, Sam told himself, and you know he can't do anything to you.

Lucifer smiled darkly.

Deciding he didn't really want to be in the cabin alone with Lucifer, Sam stood up and walked toward the front door.

"Where are you going, Sam?" Lucifer's voice asked from right behind the young man. Sam turned around. He hadn't even heard the Devil move from the couch- Dean always made the sofa's old springs squeak and creak whenever he sat down or got up.

Sam took a deep breath, "Outside."

Lucifer nodded, "Fresh air is always a good idea."

Sam ignored the Devil and tried not to think of the stench of Hell- the burnt flesh and sulfur scent- that never went away and wasn't something he had grown used to, even after a hundred and eighty years of it.

Sam closed the cabin door softly behind himself (and Lucifer) and walked down the rickety porch steps and onto the dirt driveway in his sock-and-feet.

Walking around to the side of the cabin, Sam spied his brother working on the Impala's engine.

"Dean," Sam said quietly and his brother jumped, startled.

"Son of a bitch!" Dean growled and slammed the Impala's hood down, "Don't sneak up on me like that!"

Sam retreated a few paces, taken aback by his brother's outburst.

Dean wiped his hands clean on a grimy rag, "What's up?"

Sam shrugged, "Just couldn't stay inside anymore."

Dean nodded, "How are you feeling?"

Sam didn't answer. Lucifer was eyeing the Impala murderously. He kicked one of the car's hubcaps after peering through the back window.

"Sam!" Dean's voice drew his brother's attention away from the Devil, "You with me?"

"Yeah, Dean," Sam mumbled.

His brother's expression turned suspicious but Dean let the topic drop.

"As glad as I am to see you out and about," Dean began, "I think you should go back inside and try to get some rest."

Sam frowned, "Why are all the knives in the kitchen gone?"

"What?" Dean asked, narrowing his eyes slightly.

"What, what?" Sam returned and saw annoyance creep across his brother's features.

Dean scowled, "Don't do that."

"Do you really think I would try and hurt myself, Dean? Try and kill myself?" Sam asked, his voice barely louder than a whisper. His right hand moved to his left and his fingers fiddled with a loose thread on the bandages.

Dean sighed and wiped a hand over his mouth and chin, "I don't really know what to think recently. I thought the hand trick didn't work anymore. So I'm wondering why you went ahead and cut yourself anyway."

"Don't you trust me anymore, Dean?" Sam continued as if his brother hadn't spoken.

Dean looked at his brother steadily, "Why'd you do it again? I'm surprised you haven't done permanent nerve damage to your hand yet."

Sam's shoulders slumped, "So you don't trust me, then."

"I didn't say that," Dean told him.

"Than why are the knives-" Sam began but his brother interrupted him.

"Would you quit it with the knives?! This isn't about the stupid knives, Sam! This is about you hurting yourself!" Dean snapped.

Sam didn't look at his brother but turned away from him, heading back towards the cabin.

"Sam!" Dean called out, "Damn it Sam! Come back!"

Sam ignored his brother, walking with his head down and shoulders slumped back toward the front of the cabin. He climbed the porch steps dejectedly, his heart aching from the fact that his brother didn't trust him anymore and opened the door, stepping back inside. Sam only made it as far as the living room before his legs turned to jelly and he fell onto his hands and knees. He eased himself down until he was lying on the wooden floor and curled into the fetal position. Tears squeezed from the corners of Sam's eyes and trickled down his face. He didn't even look up when he felt a presence looming over him and knew it was Lucifer.

"Doesn't this bring back memories," the Devil commented, a smile in his voice.

Sam sniffed and wiped his nose with his sleeve but didn't answer. He wasn't as strong as he thought he was. He wasn't as strong as Dean wanted him to be. Now Dean was disappointed. Dean had gotten over what had happened to him in Hell but he couldn't. He was a failure. He was weak.

Sam wondered if Dean regretted asking Death to rescue his soul from the Cage. At least Soulless Sam hadn't been a weakling, a disappointment.

Sam closed his eyes and silently prayed to an absent God to give him the strength he so desperately needed.

_SPN_

Jody smiled when Dean offered to help unpack the groceries she had gotten in town.

"How's Sam feeling?" the Sheriff asked the young man.

"He's still asleep," Dean answered, "So I'd say he's doing pretty well."

"That's great," Jody exclaimed, genuinely happy.

Dean held the cabin's front door open for Jody as she stepped inside and set the paper bag down on the counter.

"Well, it's really thanks to you that Sam's sleeping," Dean told the woman, "Usually he can barely get a half-hour's rest before the nightmares start."

Jody looked at her wristwatch. It had been a little over three hours since she had followed Dean upstairs into Sam's bedroom when the older brother had sensed something was wrong.

The eldest Winchester followed the Sheriff outside again and grabbed two grocery bags even as she took up one.

Jody just shook her head and let Dean help her because he seemed so eager to do so.

_SPN_

Dean watched as his brother trudged around to the front of the house and swore out loud. He sighed and ran a grimy hand through his short-cropped hair. Having the common sense to give his brother some space- especially since Sam's words had him so riled up- Dean turned back to his car and popped the hood again.

The sun was going down by the time Dean straightened up, his spine creaking noisily as he did so. After making sure his baby was secure in the detached garage, Dean patted the roof and paused, the sight of the empty bench seats catching his eye.

Dean stared at the Impala for a moment, thinking about the Legos that were stuck in her heat vents, the initials S.W. and D.W. carved under the floor mats and that little green army man jammed into the ashtray in the back.

"Damn it," Dean whispered and headed toward the front of the cabin, not even bothering to lock up the garage door as he exited the building.

Stomping up the porch steps, Dean announced his presence, hoping not to spook his brother.

Before Dean had the front door open, he was already calling out Sam's name. He felt like shit for snapping at his sibling. He knew that none of this was Sam's fault but sometimes… it just seemed easier to point the finger.

"Sammy?" Dean said as loudly as he dared, "You wanna talk?"

Dean stepped inside and his heart leaped up into his throat.

"No," he breathed, seeing his brother lying crumpled on the floor just outside of the living room.

Racing into the cabin proper, Dean got down on his hands and knees beside his sibling.

"Sam? Sammy? You hear me?" Dean asked frantically, panic rising in his chest.

He'd been an idiot. He should have followed his brother inside; made sure he was alright before going back out to work on his car.

Dean breathed a sigh of relief when Sam's eyes opened and he pulled his younger brother into a hug. Dean wrapped his arms around his brother's broad back, Sam's chin resting on his shoulder, and his long hair tickling the side of Dean's face.

"I'm sorry, Sammy," Dean mumbled, tears prickling his eyes, "I'm so fucking sorry for everything."

Sam remained silent but Dean could feel his brother's frame shudder as he began to cry.

"I'm the worst big brother in the history of big brothers," Dean continued and bit down on his lip as it quivered.

"I-I'm s-s-sorry I'm nuh-not as strong as… as you," Sam said wetly, his voice thick with emotion.

Dean closed his eyes, "Don't say that. You are strong. I've told you that before."

"I-It's true… I c-can't f-fight it an-anymore," Sam confessed.

Dean's hold on his brother tightened, "You can, Sam. You have to keep fighting. You can't give up."

The floodgates broke and Dean felt hot tears streaming down his own face, even as his brother's soaked the shoulder of his shirt.

"Don't you give up on me," Dean whispered, "You hear me. I forbid you to give up."

"I'll… I c-can try, Dean, b-but-" Sam began weakly but his brother interrupted.

"Don't try. Do it."

Dean felt Sam nod against his shoulder but he didn't dare let go of his brother.

Dean didn't know how long they remained on the floor. He didn't really care. He couldn't lose Sam. He just couldn't. He'd be lost if he ever lost his brother. History had already proven that and Dean was not ready to let his brother go.

We can't keep going on like this, Dean thought; there has to be another way.

Dean decided that hiding all the 'dangerous' objects from the cabin had been a stupid idea and told himself that he knew Sam wouldn't try and kill himself. As much as he hated to think about it, Dean knew that suicide was a mortal sin and one that would give a soul a one-way ticket down to the Pit. Sam had spent a hundred and eighty years in his own personal Hell with Lucifer and Michael; there was no way he was going to resign himself to an eternity of torture again.

Releasing one arm from around his brother, Dean wiped clandestinely at his face.

"I'm getting too old to be hanging out on the floor for hours," he tried to joke.

Sam's face was pale and damp from tears, his eyes sunken and bloodshot. But he smiled.

"What do you say to coffee and maybe some grub?" Dean stood, his back groaning and helped his sibling to his feet, assured that Sam was alright again for the time being and contented himself with that knowledge.

_SPN_

"Are you sure Sam won't join us?" Jody asked as she scooped a heaping spoonful of gumbo into a bowl and handed it to Dean.

It was late evening now and Jody had insisted- _insisted_- she cook dinner for the brothers. Dean hadn't wanted to get on the Sheriff's bad side and had simply asked how long it would take.

Dean shook his head as he took the offered dish; the spicy, salty scent making his mouth water.

"I'll take something up to him later on," he assured Jody around a mouthful of the Creole cuisine.

"Okay," the Sheriff said, not totally convinced that the young man shouldn't be sitting with them and enjoying her grandmother's gumbo.

"Sam needs all the sleep he can get right now," Dean spoke in a way that told Jody that the conversation was over, "I'm sure that once he's rested some more he'll feel like eating."

Jody nodded and turned her attention to her food.

Dean and the Sheriff ate their dinner without further comment. The young hunter had a thoughtful expression on his face and Jody didn't want to bother him. Besides, Dean knew his brother better than she did. The Sheriff was certain that Dean was capable of taking good care of his sibling- something he had been doing for a long time- just as he had before she had joined their small family.

"I found an old backgammon board while I was cleaning up earlier," Jody finally spoke up as she began clearing the table, "Maybe we could play a few rounds."

Dean shrugged. Why not? It had been ages since he'd relaxed and enjoyed the companionship of someone other than his brother.

"Let me just check up on Sam first," he told Jody and stood.

The Sheriff nodded and put the dirty dishes in the sink.

"By the way," Dean turned when he got to the doorway, "Thanks for dinner. It's been a long time since I've had a home-cooked meal like that."

Jody couldn't help but blush at the compliment.

Dean smiled as he left the kitchen and climbed the stairs.

_W_

Dean smiled at the sight of his sleeping brother. Sam was lying curled on his side in the now-familiar fetal position as he rested but Dean could see that his brother was calm. Sam's features were smooth and peaceful with the absence of nightmares.

The older man fought with the decision to wake his sibling. Sure, Sam needed as much sleep as he could get but he'd barely eaten anything in days and that worried Dean.

Bracing himself, Dean stepped into the bedroom and crossed to his brother's side. Taking a moment, he softly brushed Sam's bangs away from his forehead.

Sam's eyebrows knitted together and he frowned at the touch- not the reaction Dean was used to seeing- before he curled into an even tighter ball.

"_Sammy_," Dean breathed close to his brother's ear, trying not to startle the younger man too badly.

Sam's frown deepened and he squirmed for a second before peeling his eyes open.

Dean smiled encouragingly as his brother's eyes widened, "Hey, buddy."

Sam blinked owlishly as he sat up, "How long was I asleep?"

"Almost six hours," Dean couldn't help the grin that spread across his face as he spoke.

His brother blinked up at him in clear astonishment, "Six hours!?"

Dean bobbed his head in a nod, "Thought you were gonna sleep the rest of the evening."

Sam's expression suddenly turned to one of suspicion as the last dredges of sleep left him, "You didn't slip me anything, did you?"

"What? No, of course not!" Dean exclaimed, startled by his brother's accusation.

Sam lowered his gaze and picked at the bandage on his left hand, "I'm sorry, Dean… I just thought…"

Dean reached out and lifted his brother's chin, "Forget about it."

Feeling satisfied, Dean stood up and held a hand out to his sibling, "What do ya say we get you something to eat?"

Sam nodded after a moment's hesitation and accepted Dean's hand and help standing up.

Once the brothers exited the bedroom, Sam released his grip on Dean's hand but walked closer than normal to his older sibling- Dean noticed- and held onto the railing as they made their way down the stairs.

Sam followed Dean into the kitchen and sat down in his usual seat.

"Jody made gumbo but your stomach would probably appreciate something a little more plain," Dean told his brother as the Sheriff stood at the sink, washing dishes. She turned around at the sound of the young man's voice and smiled at Sam.

Dean couldn't help but feel more than a little hopeful for his brother when a smile- albeit a ghost of a smile- crossed Sam's lips at the woman's silent greeting.

Dean turned to the refrigerator and began rummaging through it, grabbing a half-eaten jar of grape jelly and straightened up with a chilled bottle of Ensure in the other hand; he addressed his brother, "How about a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, Sammy?"

Sam stared at the tabletop for a moment before giving a slight nod. He was fiddling with a loose thread on the bandages of his left hand again and Dean made a mental note to change them after his brother had eaten.

"How are you feeling, Sam?" Jody asked quietly as she stood with her arms in a sink full of soapy water, looking completely at home.

"Oh, uh… fine," Sam muttered quietly.

Dean frowned as he grabbed the peanut butter from the pantry and turned around, looking for the loaf of bread.

Jody, coming to the eldest Winchester's rescue, opened the microwave and handed the bag to him.

Once Dean had finished making his brother's dinner- a damn fine sandwich if he did say so himself- and set the bottled vitamin supplement on the kitchen table, he took a seat across from Sam, determined to make sure his younger sibling ate at least a little bit.

_SPN_

Sam ignored his growling stomach as he watched his brother and Jody set up the backgammon board and start a game. The two were sitting cross-legged across from one another at the coffee table, looking as though they belonged together.

Sam pointedly avoided his brother's gaze when Dean turned to look at him worriedly. He hadn't eaten as much as his brother would have liked- half of the sandwich and only a couple gulps of Ensure- but Sam had refused to give in to Dean.

"So your brother likes to play games too, eh?" Lucifer asked from his place on the arm of the couch, right beside Sam.

He's not real, Sam told himself; Jody's here so you know he's not real.

Lucifer only chuckled and wrapped a cold hand around Sam's upper arm.

_SPN_

Sam stuck pretty close to Dean after his meltdown. Not that Dean minded really. To Dean, it was just another example of how incompetent he was when it came to taking care of his deeply disturbed brother.

Yet Sam still want to be by my side, Dean mused as he gulped down the dregs in his coffee cup, Sam still loves me no matter how much I screw up.

As though he had heard his brother's thoughts, Sam peered across the table at his brother and gave a small, sad smile.

"You want more coffee, Sammy?" Dean asked and his brother shook his head.

Dean knew that coffee wasn't probably the best thing for his sibling right then but he knew Sam wasn't getting much sleep as it was anyway so what was the point in denying him a hot cup of coffee?

Dean stood and put their cups in the sink, ignoring the steadily growing pile of dirty dishes and went into the cabin's small den to watch some television.

Sam followed behind his brother, sitting down beside Dean on the couch much closer then he normally would have.

Without saying a word Dean found the Discovery Channel and sat back to enjoy a documentary on polar bears.

Sam scooted closer to his brother but Dean pretended not to notice. He smiled slightly, thinking of the times when Sam was much younger, barely a toddler and he'd do the exact same thing- inch nearer and nearer to him on the couch until he was almost sitting on his lap. Sam of course didn't end up on top of Dean but sat so that his shoulder touched his older brother's.

Dean was so engrossed in the show that it took him a long minute to realize Sam was shaking.

"Sam? You okay?" Dean turned his attention from the screen where a polar bear was tearing apart a seal, to his brother.

Sam didn't reply but his wide eyes fixed on the gore and blood-splattered snow told Dean all he needed to know.

Grabbing the remote, Dean pushed the OFF button and the television went dark and silent.

"It's alright Sammy," Dean rubbed his brother's arm comfortingly; "You're alright."

Still shivering, Sam peered at his brother, his eyes large and pleading.

"Aw Sam," Dean muttered and pulled his sibling into a hug.

"Shhh," Dean cooed, "I've got ya."

Sam whimpered and Dean tightened his grip, "You're safe, Sammy. It was just some stupid polar bear, okay? I'm not going to let anyone hurt you."

Dean felt his brother nod and he breathed a sigh of relief. He had been afraid Sam was going to slip into a hallucination but it seemed that the crisis had been averted. Barely.

Dean pulled back and peered concernedly at his sibling; Sam's eyes were still large and wet but his cheeks were dry. Dean brushed the fringe of dark bangs off Sam's brow and did something he hadn't done since his brother had been a baby.

Leaning forward, Dean kissed Sam's forehead lightly. Sam looked surprised by Dean's action but Dean just shrugged it off.

"Wanna try the TV again?" Dean asked, "I'll find us some cartoons or something, okay?"

Sam nodded and sat back against the couch cushions.

Dean found an old Bugs Bunny episode and together he and Sam watched Wile E. Coyote chase (and never manage to catch) the Roadrunner.

_SPN_

Jody and Dean played only a few rounds of backgammon before the young man grew bored and turned his attention to his brother.

The Sheriff didn't mind though; Sam had been looking more and more distraught as the games progressed.

As Jody cleaned up the game board she considered telling Dean her idea. It wasn't really much of an idea… more of a suggestion but she wasn't sure the young hunter would go for it.

"Dean," she spoke up and Dean seemed to be fighting to give her his full attention.

"Yeah?" he asked, one hand tightly gripping his brother's.

"I think you and Sam should come to Sioux Falls with me," Jody blurted out before she could change her mind.

Dean stared at her for a moment, dumbfounded.

"You mean… live with you in Sioux Falls?" he asked.

Jody nodded, "I don't like the idea of you boys staying all the way out here by yourselves. You're pretty far from town in case something happens."

Dean listened patiently.

"Besides, I think our big-mouthed friends have gone on the greener pastures, if you know what I mean," Jody continued.

Dean didn't say anything.

"And… well… the house has been kind of lonely with just me living there… I have a couple of guest rooms you could use," Jody made on last-ditch attempt at convincing the young man.

Dean smiled, "Sheriff! I didn't know you felt that way about me!"

"What?" Jody asked and the blushed, "You're awful!"

The eldest Winchester's expression turned serious, "Can I think about this?"

"Of course!" Jody exclaimed, "But I should really be getting back to South Dakota soon. The deputies will be missing me."

Dean nodded and turned to look at Sam; Jody could almost hear the cogs turning in the older brother's brain.

Hopefully I haven't scared them off, Jody thought and shoved the backgammon board underneath the coffee table.

She just wanted to help the Winchesters and it was clear that whatever the reason, she had a positive effect on the youngest.

Maybe if I spend more time with him, Sam will begin to recover, Jody hoped. She didn't want to push Dean into doing something he was uncomfortable with but Jody knew he would take his brother's safety and health into serious consideration when thinking on her offer. Whatever Dean decides, I won't interfere. He just wants to protect his brother and I have to respect that, Jody told herself.

But sometimes Dean needs someone to protect him as well.

**Author's Note:**

**1. Thanks to jack62192, SPN Mum, AlxM, sarah, LAHH, LeighAnnWallace, BranchSuper, BonanzaRocks, Lucydolly22, TeamEtharahRules and my Guests for reviewing.**

**2. Thanks to everyone who favourited/followed/alerted.**

**3. Please leave a comment! I'd love to know what you think!**


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen: Long Road To Ruin

Dean thought about Jody's suggestion that he and Sam stay with her.

Dean thought about it when he sat on the edge of his brother's bed, comforting him after a particularly frightening nightmare. Dean hugged Sam's trembling frame against him in the darkened bedroom, assuring his sibling that everything was going to be alright.

Dean thought about it when he scooped his brother's uneaten breakfast into the garbage the next morning. Neither of the Winchesters had gotten much sleep after the bad dream and Dean wasn't at all surprised that Sam had no appetite for the oatmeal he had made for him.

Dean thought about living with Jody when Sam slipped into the same catatonic state he'd displayed at Missouri Mosley's. Dean checked the time and waited and watched while his brother stared into space. He tried to snap Sam out of it but it was as though his brother had been replaced by a wax replica from Madame Tussaud's.

Dean thought about it when Sam finally came around, nearly six hours later, his muscles stiff and in dire need of a pee. Dean helped Sam up and to the bathroom on the first floor of the cabin as his legs refused to work properly.

Dean thought about Jody's more than generous offer when Sam picked at his lunch, no doubt seeing a writing bowl of worms or steaming intestines instead of the Spaghetti-Os that his brother had placed in front of him.

Jody had not stayed in the house, she claimed she wanted to give the brothers some privacy so they could talk things over but Dean and Sam didn't do much talking at all and the older Winchester wished that the Sheriff was with them instead of exploring the trails that surrounded the cabin.

Dean tried to think about a possible future where they lived with Jody Mills in Sioux Falls as he resisted the urge to force his brother to eat. Sam couldn't continue on like this- hardly eating and barely drinking enough bottles of Ensure to at least give him some nutrients. Sometimes Dean didn't even know how his brother had not become seriously ill.

After lunch- or lack thereof, in Sam's case- Dean went over the pros and cons of going back to Sioux Falls. If they went with Sheriff Mills they wouldn't be so isolated, so far away from people. Dean would be able to have someone to talk to about Sam, especially when things got tough. Sam would have another anchor in Jody; Dean was almost certain that the more time his brother spent with the Sheriff the better he would get. If they moved to Sioux Falls they wouldn't be hiding anymore, Dick Roman might find out where they were and come after them. After their last encounter with Leviathans in Hoxie, Dean didn't feel like meeting the monsters again. The change of scenery, the move to somewhere unfamiliar- Jody's house- could traumatize Sam even more than he was right now. Dean had made a promise to himself after Bobby's funeral that they would never go back to Sioux Falls; there were just too many sad memories there.

Dean didn't know what to do. He wanted to take Jody's offer and take the chance that the Sheriff's presence was actually helping his brother but he was worried that this might be one of Sam's better weeks and that he'd slip away again whether Jody was with them or not.

Sam sat on a chair in the living room while his older brother reclined on the couch but Dean could see that his sibling was not in the cabin at all. He was lost in his own world.

Standing up and going to his brother, Dean reached out to him, "Sam? Sammy, hey? You with me?"

Sam looked up at him with wide, frightened eyes and let out a whimper.

"Sam," Dean said quietly and moved to hug his brother, only to be shoved roughly to the floor.

"Don't! Don't come near me!" Dean supposed that at one time the words could have been spit out in anger but now, tinged with terror, they sounded more like pleading.

"Sammy," Dean stood up again, "It's just me, buddy. I'm not going to hurt you."

Sam on the other hand didn't seem to trust his brother's word and curled up on the chair as small as he could manage.

Dean felt tears begin to prick at his eyes, "Sam, please. It's me. Dean. You gotta believe me."

Sam shook his head and buried his face against his knees hard enough that he had to be hurting his nose.

"Please, please," Sam mumbled, his voice slightly muffled, "Go away."

"It's me, Sam," Dean tried again, feeling utterly useless.

Dean moved a step closer to his brother and Sam let out a sob of terror. Dean got the idea and backed up, hands raised in the surrender position.

"Okay, okay," Dean said, "I won't touch you, alright?"

Sam didn't even look at him as he spoke, "I w-want my D-Daddy!"

Dean paused. Something seriously wrong was going on with his brother. It had been years, _years _since either of the Winchester brothers had called John by that name. Clenching his hands into fists, Dean suddenly wanted to punch someone- anyone nearby would do, really- because he couldn't get his hands on Lucifer to take his anger out on the bastard.

Dean turned around at the sound of the screen door slapping shut and Jody stepped into the living room, the smile slipping off her face as she took in the sight of the Winchesters.

"Oh my God!" she exclaimed and rushed forward, one hand outstretched.

Quick as a snake, Dean grabbed Jody's arm before she could continue.

"I don't think it's a good idea to go near him right now," Dean cautioned but the Sheriff just pulled her arm out of his grasp and approached the younger man.

"Sam, honey? Hey, it's alright," Jody crouched down as if to make herself seem less imposing and spoke in a soft, yet cheery voice.

Sam looked up and sniffed before hiding his face again.

"Sweetie," Jody said, "Is it okay if I touch you?"

Sam didn't answer. Dean watched Sheriff Mills with bated breath. His brother had not let him get even this close before he started crying blue murder.

Reaching one hand out, Jody placed it lightly on Sam's shoulder.

Sam scrunched into a smaller ball but didn't react otherwise.

"It's alright, Sweetheart," Jody cooed and Sam looked up again, his eyes wide and large and so full of trust that Dean felt a lump form in his throat.

"It's going to be okay," Jody promised and Sam unfolded himself and reached out, grabbing Jody and pulling her into a hug.

Jody raised her hand and rested it against the back of Sam's head.

"It's alright," she continued to murmur comfortingly, "You're okay. You're safe."

Dean just stood completely dumbfounded.

In that moment Dean knew without a doubt that he would gladly go back to Sioux Falls if only he could see that look of such utter trust in his brother's eyes again.

_W_

It took the better part of an hour for Sam to fully recover from whatever hallucination he'd been experiencing. Dean wanted nothing more than to pack all their stuff into the Impala and head straight for Sioux Falls but he didn't want to scare his brother.

Once Sam was more lucid and calm Dean informed him of the decision to leave Whitefish.

"Forever?" Sam asked in a little boy voice and Dean sighed.

"I don't know, Sammy," Dean admitted, "Maybe…maybe not."

"I like it here," Sam continued, absentmindedly. He picked at a loose thread on the bandage wrapped around his palm and stared out the front window at the trees swaying in the breeze.

"I know you do," Dean said, "I like it too but Jody can't stay here indefinitely."

Sam spoke again in that distracted tone, "_He _doesn't want us to go."

Dean frowned, "You know he's not real, right? He's all in your head."

Sam didn't reply so Dean continued, "Besides, he's not the boss of you. I am."

That made his brother smile a little and Dean reached out to take his brother's hand.

"Let's get this show on the road, what do you say?"

Sam followed Dean upstairs and helped him pack their meager possessions into their duffel bags.

Jody had gone into town to fill up her car with gas and Dean was glad that it was just him and Sam again.

Dean was going to drive the Impala. He didn't care if she was conspicuous; there was no way he was going to leave her here all alone.

While Sam stayed upstairs to finish packing, Dean grabbed his luggage and headed into the kitchen, trying to decide what items he could bring along in the box cooler that he'd found.

_SPN_

Sam sat down on his bed and put his head in his hands. He was scared- terrified- but he couldn't tell Dean that. His brother was doing this for him and it wouldn't be right to be that selfish.

"Oh c'mon Sammy," Lucifer said in an exasperated tone, "It isn't like Dean's the most altruistic person in the world."

Sam squeezed his eyes shut and his hands moved to grip his long hair.

"Shut up," Sam whispered, "Please just shut up."

"You can't run away from me, Sam," Lucifer continued as if he hadn't heard the young man.

Sam let a heartbroken sob escape and the Devil grinned wolfishly.

"Poor Sammy," he mocked, "Whatever are you going to do?"

Sam didn't answer. Tears dripped down the end of his nose and splattered on his jeans and the bedspread. His hands started trembling and he unconsciously tugged at his hair, not even aware of the pain.

"Aw are you going to cry to Mommy?" Lucifer mocked, "Oh that's right, you don't have a Mommy."

Sam hunched his shoulders up to his ears and let out a moan of misery.

"Hey, maybe that's why Dean's planning on going back to Sioux Falls! He thinks that bitch will play Mommy for the both of you!"

"That's not why!" Sam snarled and then whimpered, flinching when Lucifer stepped into his personal space, icy eyes boring into him.

"Please don't hurt me," Sam pleaded and raised his hands defensively.

"Aw Sammy, you're so cute when you beg," Lucifer smirked and Sam began to cry harder.

"Pl-please don't d-do this," Sam whispered pitifully, "I-I'm s-sorry!"

Lucifer smiled coldly, "You always say that, Sam, and you know what? I don't think you are."

_SPN_

Dean sang Van Halen's 'Right Now' under his breath as he finished packing the cooler. Hefting the plastic rectangular container, Dean just about dropped the entire thing on his toes when he heard a loud crash come from upstairs and knew right away that Sam was in trouble.

Whipping around, Dean slid the cooler onto the kitchen counter and sprinted for the stairs.

No, no, not now; he thought helplessly, frightened of what he'd see when he reached his brother's bedroom.

"Sam!" Dean called sharply, listening for a reply and swearing when he didn't receive one.

Practically vaulting up the stairs, Dean swiveled quickly to avoid slamming into the wall.

"Sammy!" he cried his brother's name again and stumbled into the bedroom.

Dean startled when he saw Sam packing his duffel as though nothing had happened.

"Sam? Is everything okay?" he asked, hands gripped the sides of the doorframe tightly.

His brother looked up sheepishly. His face was pale and his eyes were red-rimmed, wet but he didn't appear to be in any distress.

"Sam? You okay?" Dean asked again and his sibling looked away from him, nodding.

"What was that sound?" he asked, not leaving the doorway. Sam kept his gaze averted.

Dean took a step into the room, "Sam? Sammy? What happened?"

Sam shrugged, continued packing his duffel, folding his shirts slowly and deliberately.

Dean felt his feet move until he was standing right beside his brother. He grabbed Sam's wrist, "Sam, man, come on. What was that? Huh?"

Sam lifted his free hand and rubbed beside his eye, just underneath his temple but didn't reply.

"Sammy? Sam?" Dean asked, "What is it? C'mon, talk to me."

Dean sighed, "Why won't you say anything?"

"Nothing has helped before," Sam whispered, barely audible, "So why should we be so lucky this time?"

Dean didn't know how to answer that. He guessed Sam had a point- Missouri couldn't help them, Dr. Plummer couldn't help- but that didn't mean he had to be right.

"Please Sam," Dean said, "Please do this one last thing for me. Can you do that?"

His brother looked up at him and Dean saw sorrow in his eyes but Sam nodded because Dean had asked something of him and he hated disappointing him.

Dean felt bad that he made Sam feel as though he owed him something but he was trying to help his brother.

Dean let go of Sam's wrist and cleared his throat.

"Finished packing?" he asked and Sam nodded. Dean stood up and walked towards the doorway as if nothing had happened. He knew something had been going on before he had stomped upstairs but Sam wasn't saying anything and he didn't want to push him.

Looking over his shoulder to make sure his brother was following, Dean felt his heart squeeze when he saw the expression on Sam's face.

Please God, Dean prayed silently, please help Sam; just this once.

Both brothers looked up when they heard the sound of a car engine and Dean knew that Jody had returned from her run into town.

"C'mon Sammy," Dean muttered and went into the kitchen, grabbed the cooler, "We should get going. Can you get my bag?"

Sam picked up his brother's duffel and followed Dean as he pushed open the front door and stepped onto the porch.

Jody was leaning against the door of her car and began moving forward when she saw the brothers.

"Need any help?" she asked but Dean shook his head, "No thanks. We've got it."

Dean set the cooler on the grass beside the Impala's rear passenger door and fished his keys from his pocket, moving to the back of the classic car. Sam stood close to him, still holding onto the two duffels, gazing out at the woods surrounding the cabin.

Unlocking the trunk, Dean paused for a moment, waiting on his brother.

"Sammy? You can put our stuff in now," he said and the younger man jumped slightly.

The sooner we get to Sioux Falls, the better; Dean told himself and took their luggage from his brother's slack fingers. Dean settled the two duffel bags into the trunk and slammed the lid shut.

After stowing the cooler in the foot well behind his seat, Dean climbed into the driver's seat. Sam opened his door slowly and sat down, hands resting on his knees and his gaze pointed downward.

Dean followed Jody's car as she pulled out of the driveway and down the wooded path that would lead them towards Whitefish and, eventually, Sioux Falls.

_SPN_

Sam curled against the passenger's side door. He stared out the window at the trees flashing by as Dean drove them away from the cabin.

Sam's heart thudded painfully in his chest and he wished that his brother would turn the Impala around. He didn't want to go to Sioux Falls; he was scared. He was scared of the Leviathans finding them; he was scared of Dean's plan not working. Sam didn't want to disappoint his brother again. He had tried to tell Dean that he wasn't strong enough to keep his memories of Hell at bay- keep Lucifer at bay- but he wouldn't listen.

Sam cringed when his brother turned on the radio and Ozzy Osbourne began singing 'Mama, I'm Coming Home'. Rufus Turner's old cabin had become the closest thing to home the Winchesters had- besides the Impala- and now they were leaving it all behind.

"Dean," Sam whispered without even looking at his brother. Dean didn't reply, he was too busy singing along to the music, tapping his hands on the steering wheel.

"Don't worry, Sammy," Lucifer spoke up from the backseat, making Sam flinch, "Even if Dean-o leaves you, you'll always have me!"

Sam squeezed his eyes shut as the Devil laughed loudly.

_W_

Sam stared despondently out the windshield, not answering when his brother asked if he wanted something to drink from the cooler. He ignored the worried look Dean gave him. If Dean truly cared, he would take them back to Whitefish.

They were following a truck carrying thin metal poles for some construction job or something and the sight of the open back of the vehicle made Sam uneasy. It had squeezed in between them and Jody's car about a half hour ago and didn't appear as though it would be turning anytime soon.

"Dean," Sam raised his voice above the classic rock music playing on the radio.

His brother glanced over at him but didn't turn down the music, "Yeah, Sammy?"

"Maybe you should fall back a little," Sam suggested, eyeing the truck warily.

Dean peered at the truck and chuckled, "It's okay, Sam. Those things are perfectly secure; they're transported like that all the time."

His brother's confidence didn't ease Sam's nerves at all. He glanced at the Impala's radio when 'Dust in the Wind' began to play and reached out to turn the music off.

Ahead of them, the truck hit a pothole and the vehicle bounced, jostling its cargo and one of the straps holding the poles steady, snapped. With a metallic grating sound, over a dozen seven-foot long metal poles flew straight at the Impala.

"Shit!" Dean swore and wrenched the wheel towards the left, trying to dodge the projectiles.

Glass shattered, tires squealed and metal crunched as the Impala smashed into the cement divider.

"Dean!" Sam shouted in terror and then blacked out when his forehead connected with the dashboard.

Sam blinked blood out of his eyes and sat up. His lungs felt like they was on fire and he couldn't seem to catch his breath. Looking down, his eyes widened at the sight of one of the steel poles protruding from his chest.

"No," Sam gasped and lifted trembling hands to touch the offending object. Blood-slick fingers slipped from the metal and Sam groaned, straining to hear the sounds of sirens that should surely be coming close by now.

"Dean," Sam whispered and turned his head slowly to see if his brother was alright.

"No!" Sam wheezed and reached out towards Dean. He sat slumped over the steering wheel, face turned to stare at Sam with sightless eyes. Dried blood was caked to Dean's face and matted in his hair.

"Dean!" Sam called as loudly as he could but his brother didn't respond. Hot tears gushed out of Sam's eyes as he touched his brother's shoulder and found it cold beneath his fingers.

"_No_," Sam begged, his voice barely audible, "Please no. Please… no… Dean…_Dean_."

Sam's breath hitched painfully, "D'n… no… please… D'n."

The young man shook his brother's shoulder, knowing it was a useless gesture. Sam's breathing continued to grow shallow as he struggled to wake Dean, black spots forming in front of his eyes.

"Wake… up…" Sam whimpered, barely conscious as he found it more and more difficult to draw breath.

"No… D'n… please…" He gasped out, the sound of sirens only now reaching his ears, far too late to help.

Sam couldn't keep his eyes open anymore and they slipped closed, his hand sliding off his brother's shoulder even as paramedics ran toward the destroyed car.

_SPN_

Sam had fallen asleep a few hours into the drive and Dean was glad that his brother was at least getting some rest.

Dean bit his lip in thought. He truly had faith in Sheriff Mills, fully believed that she would be able to help ground Sam in reality when he failed to do so.

Although it hurt to acknowledge it, Dean knew that he was no longer good enough to keep Sam's hallucinations away. Dean knew that it was not his fault, Lucifer had used him to torture his brother and there was nothing Dean could do to erase that but he wished he could do more for Sam. He wished he didn't have to see that terrified look in his brother's eyes anymore.

Dean just hoped that this wasn't some last-ditch attempt of his to cure his brother that would backfire like all the others.

He turned down the music and glanced at Sam when he moaned in his sleep.

Oh no Sammy, Dean thought, please don't do this now.

Sam shifted in his seat and gasped, moaning again and his eyebrows furrowed.

"No," Sam muttered, fear clear in his voice, "Dean."

Dean's heart began to pound in his chest. Sam remained quiet for a long moment before speaking again, "No… please… No please… Dean… Dean…"

Pulling over onto the gravel shoulder of the highway, Dean unbuckled his seatbelt and inched closer to his brother.

"Sammy? Sammy, wake up," Dean coaxed, laying a gentle hand on his brother's cheek.

Sam turned his head away, "D'n… no… please… D'n."

"Sam! Wake up!" Dean urged, his eyes flicked up to the windshield and he saw the Sheriff's car pull off to the side a few meters ahead of the Impala.

Tears started to leak down his brother's face and Dean quickly wiped them away with his thumbs.

"C'mon, Sammy," Dean whispered encouragingly, "You're alright, you're not hurt."

Sam groaned and slowly, almost painfully his eyes opened.

Dean smiled at the sight of Sam's green eyes, the pupils their normal size.

"Hey," Dean said quietly and found himself nearly crushed in a hug.

"Dean!" Sam exclaimed, "I thought you… you were…"

"Shhh," Dean soothed, "It's okay, Sammy. Nothing's happened."

"I thought you were dead," Sam whispered, releasing his hold on his brother.

Dean frowned.

"I'm not going anywhere, Sammy," he said, settling himself back in the driver's seat, "Not for a long time, you got that?"

Sam nodded and Dean put his seatbelt back on, starting up the Impala once more.

Ahead of them, Jody pulled back onto the road. Dean took a deep breath. He glanced once more at his brother and decided that they couldn't get to Sioux Falls fast enough.

_SPN_

Jody frowned slightly at the sight of the Winchesters as they sat across from her in the diner. Dean looked exhausted even after only a few hours of driving, eating his hamburger slowly and without much enthusiasm. Sam's head was lowered, his bangs covering his eyes, as he picked listlessly at his salad.

Sitting her Club Sandwich down on its plate, Jody addressed the older brother.

"Maybe we should stop at a motel for the night," she suggested, noting the rapidly sinking sun in outside the diner window.

Dean shook his head, "We're not really that far from Sioux Falls now."

Jody disagreed, they still had a long way to go and the thought of Dean trying to drive at night- when he was clearly tired- worried her.

"It's not a race, Dean," Jody tried to argue with the young man, try and convince him otherwise but she stopped when he glared daggers at her, his hazel eyes as hard as marbles.

The Sheriff had no idea what Dean was thinking but whatever it was, it couldn't be good.

"We can't stop," he insisted, "I don't expect you to understand… just do as I ask."

Jody was taken aback by the young man's intensity and all she could do was nod.

_SPN_

Sam quietly unlocks and opens the door to the apartment. Stepping over the threshold, he smiles as he registers the sweet scent of fresh-baked chocolate chip cookies still hanging in the air. Leaning over to pull his boots off, Sam picks his head up when he hears the shower running. He pads into the tiny kitchen and takes a cookie from the dozen sitting warm on the plate on the counter. Jess loves to bake, she finds it relaxing and Sam certainly doesn't complain about all the cookies and cakes and squares she makes.

Munching away on the sweet treat, Sam heads to the bedroom, deciding to wait for Jess there and surprise her.

Sam swallows the last mouthful of chewy cookie dough and gooey chocolate chips and licking his fingers, sits down on the end of the bed. Sam suddenly feels exhausted. Destroying that Woman in White- Constance Welch- had taken a lot out of him, reminding Sam that he isn't used to hunting anymore.

Leaning back against the blankets, Sam closes his eyes, resting. Hearing the shower shut off, Sam looks up and smiles widely as Jess walks out of the bathroom, wearing only a long white nightgown.

"Sam!" she shrieks happily and runs to him.

Jess practically jumps onto Sam's lap and wraps her arms around him, "I was so worried about you!"

Sam kisses the tip of Jess' nose and she giggles like a little girl, "Did you have a cookie?"

"I did," Sam tells her, "If you weren't going to be a doctor, I'd say you should be a pastry chef, own your own bakery."

Jessica smiles, her blue eyes filled with happiness.

"I'm glad you like the cookies so much," she continues, leaning closer to Sam so she can whisper in his ear, "I put a little something special in them. Just for you."

Sam shakes his head, chuckling, "You're too good to me, you know that?"

Jess' smile widens, "I am."

She kisses Sam on the lips, hard, and pushes him down onto the bed. Her long blonde hair tickling Sam's cheeks and he reaches up to cup her face in his hands. Sam frowns when his vision swims, becoming blurry. Jess reaches up and grabs hold of Sam's hands in hers, her long, delicate fingers suddenly very strong.

Sam frowns in confusion as his girlfriend spreads his arms out on the bed and he tries to sit up, his heart pounding in fear.

Jess, crouched above Sam, prevents him from moving. She tightens her grip on his arms, fingers sliding down to his wrists.

"What're you doing?" Sam asked, his voice slurring.

Jess just continues to smile, "Relax, Sam."

Sam begins to struggle, "_Christo_!"

His girlfriend throws her head back and laughs.

"What did you do to me?" Sam tries to ask but he can barely get the words out. Jessica looks down at him, "Why don't you close your eyes for a little bit? I'll tell you everything when you wake up."

"No!" Sam tries to push Jessica away, dump her onto the floor but his vision begins to darken and his limbs feel like Jell-O.

"Please," he begs as he searches for an once of humanity in his girlfriend's blue eyes and finds none.

"Nighty-night, Sammy," Jessica whispers and chuckles as his eyes roll into his head and he goes limp, unconscious.

_W_

The first thing that Sam notices when he wakes up is the smell- sulfur and burnt flesh- and immediately tries to sit up. Thick chains wrap around Sam's wrists and ankles prevent him from moving. Lifting his head, Sam sees that he is only wearing his boxer shorts and his heart begins to beat furiously in his chest.

Struggling against his bonds, Sam's eyes dart to Jess as she appears at the side of the bed. She still wears the white nightgown and a smile, her hands now gripping a curved blade.

"Jess?" Sam asks cautiously, his voice raspy, his mouth as dry as cotton.

She tucks a strand of wavy blonde hair behind her ear and smiles down at him coyly.

"You're not Jess," Sam says and his girlfriend grins toothily.

Sam's hands form fists and he pulls against the chains, "Please… not her… please… don't do this… not here…"

Jess (who is not really Jess) chuckles and points at Sam with the blade of the knife, "I thought you were happy to see me. If you don't like me anymore, why didn't you just stay with your brother?"

"Stop pretending to be Jess!" Sam shouts, knowing that it won't do any good anyway. Tears well up in his eyes at the sight of his long deceased girlfriend; Sam knows that it isn't really Jessica but, even so, wishes that it is.

The fallen angel in the guise of Jessica Moore leans forward and Sam tries to squirm away, the chains nearly immobilizing him.

Lucifer lifts the knife and stabs the mattress right beside Sam's head, close to his eye. Sam's chest heaves in fear, his heart pounding a terrified staccato that he can hear in his head.

Sam's green eyes are wide as he stares up at Jessica, "Wh-what are you g-going to do to me?"

The young woman grins (not Jess, not Jess, not Jess!) and climbs atop the bed, straddling Sam with her knees on either side of him. Taking in the terror in Sam's eyes, the fallen angel sighs lightly, "Oh, I'll think of something."

_SPN_

Dean squinted tiredly at the darkened road ahead of them, yawing widely but refusing to stop for the night. Reaching over, he jacked up the volume on the radio, glancing at his brother sitting in the passenger seat.

Sam had been very quiet throughout most of the drive and although it wasn't unusual for his brother to be less talkative these days, Dean still worried about him. He had barely eaten anything at the diner, one or two lettuce leaves from his salad at best, before pushing it away and staring sadly out the window beside him.

Am I doing the right thing? Dean wondered; is this going to help Sam, coming back to Sioux Falls? Can Jody really help Sam? Am I just fooling myself and making things worse from my brother?

No one answered Dean, of course. Bob Seger's raspy voice belting out the lyrics to 'American Storm' from the Impala's speakers only irritated the eldest Winchester.

Turning the music off, Dean heaved a sigh and turned his attention back to the black line of road ahead of him.

Sam shifted in his seat and Dean quickly glanced over at his brother. He could almost feel the tension coming off his younger sibling in waves.

Reaching out, Dean gave Sam's shoulder a squeeze, unsurprised to feel the muscles beneath the clothes rigid.

"Jess…" Sam muttered and shifted again.

Dean's eyebrows pinch together. Taking his eyes from the road for a moment, Dean tried to get a look at his brother's face. Sam's eyes were half-open, the pupils shrunk to the size of pinpricks.

"Son of a bitch," Dean swears and glances through the windshield, searching for somewhere he can turn off onto the shoulder if need be.

Sam groaned softly and his hands clenched into fists.

No, no, no, Dean pleaded silently; not now. Oh c'mon Sammy, just hold on.

"Shhh," Dean murmured, staring at the road, "its okay, Sammy. You're okay."

A blue sign warning of a rest stop a few miles ahead flashed past the Impala and Dean speeds up. Jody, driving behind the Winchesters, pulled up so she wouldn't lose sight of them.

"Nooo," Sam whispered and began thrashing wildly.

"Fuck!" Dean cursed, pressing his foot down on the gas.

Dean nearly missed the parking lot to the rest area, so focused on his brother, but quickly jerked the steering wheel to the left, the Impala's tires bumping over the curb as he did so.

Not even parking within the lines- it's the middle of the night and the rest stop bathrooms and picnic area are deserted- Dean unbuckled himself and his brother.

"Sam," Dean slides over so that he can be closer to his sibling, "It's alright, yeah, you're alright."

Dean ran one hand through his brother's long hair, brushing Sam's bangs away from his face.

In the dim light of the street lights lining the parking lot, Dean sees tears already dampening Sam's cheeks. Grabbing hold of Sam's shoulders, Dean shakes him slightly.

"Sammy," Dean almost chokes on the name, "Don't do this, not now. Please, come back to me."

Sam's head falls limply, his chin hitting his chest. His knees stretch out in the confines of the Impala's foot wells, his feet tapping against the floor mats.

"Sam? Sam! Talk to me!" Dean snaps, becoming frightened, "Say something! Damn it!"

He doesn't notice when Jody parks her car beside the Impala and comes around to tap on the driver's side window.

"… Jess…" Sam whimpers the name fearfully, "No… please… don't…"

Dean closes his eyes for a moment. All he can think about are those terrible weeks after Sam left Stanford and was plagued by nightmares of his girlfriend's death. Even though Sam tried to hide them, he couldn't know that Dean always woke up when he shouted out Jessica's name in the middle of the night in their motel room.

"Sam, look at me," Dean lifts his brother's head and lifts one of Sam's eyelids with his thumb, "Please man. We're so close… so close."

Sam began to tremble and Dean tightened his grip, "…No… Jess… Not her…"

Dean has the sudden idea that whatever is causing Sam's hallucinations is malignant- sentient- and that it somehow knows where they are going and why, that it's trying to break his brother irreparably.

"It's not Jess, Sam!" Dean nearly shouts at his brother, "It's not her! You're not there! You're with me! We're in the Impala!"

Dean grabs one of his brother's curled fists and slams it onto the car's dashboard.

"You feel that? It's the Impala," Dean growls through clenched teeth, "You're not in Hell anymore! We got you out!"

Sam jerks in Dean's grasp and gives a shuddering breath.

"Dean?" he asks in a watery voice and Dean smiles.

"Yeah," he answers, "It's me."

Sam grabs onto Dean's jacket with both hands, pulling himself closer to his older brother as sobs rack his body.

"It wasn't Jess," Sam cries and Dean lets him, "It wasn't her… oh God… It was… It was him…"

Dean places his hands on Sam's back, supporting him. He doesn't see Jody staring at them through the window- their voices slightly muffled- while tears trail down her own cheeks.

"Dean… He… It wasn't Jess… I thought it was h-her at fi-first…" Sam continues and all Dean can do is try to keep from crying as well.

"Shhh," Dean murmurs, "He can't hurt you anymore."

Sam shakes his head, "Lucifer… He… oh God… He…"

Dean becomes alarmed when his brother suddenly retches and he opens his own door, causing Jody to step back.

Still holding onto his brother, Dean guides Sam across the Impala's front seat and his younger brother lands on his hands and knees, heaving onto the pavement.

Dean keeps one hand on Sam's back, the other going to his own mouth as bile rises in his throat.

He catches Jody's eye and she slips away, walking quickly towards the restrooms across the parking lot.

Once Sam has stopped retching, Dean gives his shoulder a supportive squeeze. Sam's eyes are red-rimmed and haunted- still terrified- but clear and the pupils are no longer dilated.

Dean doesn't know what to say- there is nothing he _can _say- so he pulls his brother into a strong hug again.

Footsteps alert the brothers to Jody's return and she hands Dean a handful of paper towels damped with water from the taps in the bathroom. Dean nods to her and raises the brown paper towels to Sam's brow, wiping off the sweat beaded there.

Dean frowns; Sam's skin feels feverish through the towels and he hopes that his brother isn't getting ill on top of everything else.

After a few long minutes, Dean drops the used towels onto the asphalt and helps Sam to stand.

"Thanks Jody," Dean says quietly, "I can take it from here."

"Are you sure?" the Sheriff asks, her brown eyes clouded with worry.

Dean nodded, "Yeah."

Jody gets back into her own car and pulls up to the driveway, waiting for the Winchesters to follow.

Instead of leading Sam around to the passenger's side, he opens the back door.

"You should lie down for a little while," Dean prompts and his brother doesn't argue.

As soon as Sam is settled, Dean closes the door and slips into the driver's seat.

Sighing silently, Dean puts the Impala in drive and follows Jody as she pulls out onto the highway. Gaze flicking to the rearview mirror, Dean sees that Sam's eyes are wide open. He knows that Sam won't get any more sleep tonight and hopes that tomorrow night will be better.

**Author's Note:**

**1. Chapter title comes from a song of the same name by the Foo Fighters. **

**2. Thanks to nupinoop296, TeamEtharahRules, sarah, SPN Mum, BonanzaRocks, Lucydolly22, L.A.H.H, BranchSuper, Samstruck, and mandancie for reviewing.**

**3. Thanks to everyone who alerted/followed/favourited.**

**4. Please leave a review! **

**5. This fanfic is almost finished! One more chapter should wrap this up, I think. Please take the time to leave a comment if you haven't done so before! I'd love to hear from you!**


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen: Home Again

Dean smiled triumphantly as the Impala passed the green sign that proclaimed they have just entered Sioux Falls, South Dakota. It has been a long, hard drive but it has finally come to an end. He followed behind Jody's car, slowing down to the speed limit, watching the pedestrians on the sidewalks as they approach the residential areas.

Slightly nervous, still thinking of the city as Leviathan Ground Zero, Dean peered at everyone brazen enough to stare at the Impala. He believed the Sheriff though when she told him that the monsters had moved away and realized that many of the people looking at the big black car were just regular men and women, interested in the classic Chevy.

Dean ran a hand over his face, feeling stubble on his chin, and glanced at his reflection in the rearview mirror. He looked like death warmed over, and, catching sight of his brother, saw that Sam didn't look much better.

After Sam's last nightmare, the one about Jessica, he'd refused the pull of sleep and had lain awake in the confines of the Impala's backseat all night. Dean was sure his brother was uncomfortable but Sam didn't complain, didn't speak up once, even when Dean asked if he wanted anything to drink from the cooler.

Dean blinked sleepily and nearly missed his turn as Jody pulled to the right and onto a tree-lined street. He followed the Sheriff's car through a maze of narrow streets- some so only wide enough to let cars pass single file- before she pulled up to a two-storey brownstone with a yellow lawn and dry flowerbeds.

Dean didn't recognize the house and realized that Jody had probably moved after the incident with the zombies. He didn't really blame her.

Pulling into the driveway alongside Jody, Dean cut the Impala's engine and opened his door, glancing over his shoulder and saw Sam slowly sitting up.

Climbing out of the car, Dean stretched his hands over his head, hearing his spine crackle as he moved. It was about mid-morning and many of the driveways along the street were empty, homeowners already at work. Dean looked over when Sam stepped out of the Impala, slightly hunched from being curled up on the backseat.

"So, this is home," Jody's voice startles Dean and he turns to her.

"It's nice," he commented, "Seems quiet."

Jody nodded and pulled her hair into a quick ponytail, "It is. It's a mature neighbourhood so there aren't many kids around."

Dean smiled. Although he doesn't exactly mind kids, the thoughts of them shrieking and running down the sidewalk past the house sets his nerves on edge.

Sam shifts closer to his brother and Dean unconsciously takes hold of his brother's wrist. He can feel Sam's heart beating fast beneath his fingers.

The sound of a screen door slamming shut draws the eldest Winchesters' attention to the house beside Jody's as an elderly woman wearing slippers and a housecoat shuffles down the sidewalk towards them.

"Oh no," Jody moaned quietly and plastered a smile onto her face, "Hi Gladys!"

The old woman holds a stack of envelopes and newspapers in her gnarled hands, "I have your mail, Jody dear."

The Sheriff walked forward, stopping Gladys' progress at the end of the driveway.

"Thanks," Jody nodded and takes the mail from her neighbour.

Squinting at the Winchesters, Gladys began moving forward, past Jody.

"And who are these strapping young men?" she asked, not even looking at the Sheriff.

"They're my… uh, cousins," Jody lied, "From Canada. They're going to be staying with me for a while."

Dean smiled stiffly, wanting nothing more than to go inside and lay down.

"Oooh Canada! Lovely place to ski!" Gladys exclaimed, "Do you ski?"

Dean cleared his throat, "No ma'am."

"Whereabouts are you from?" the old woman asked and Dean looked over at his brother.

"Toronto," Sam mutters and Dean repeats the word, louder so that Gladys will hear.

The elderly neighbour nods, "My husband and I went to Whistler every year to ski."

"That's great," Dean said, trying to sound enthusiastic.

Jody puts a hand on Gladys' forearm, "Thanks for taking care of my mail for me. We're all a little tired from the long drive."

The elderly woman squinted at the Winchesters, only then seeming to realize that they were nearly dead on their feet, "Of course! Don't mind me!"

With that, Gladys began shuffling quickly back to her own home, leaving Jody to give the brothers an exasperated expression.

"Sorry about that," Jody said, "She's a bit of a busybody but she's harmless."

Dean shrugged and followed the Sheriff as she made her way up the pathway to her front door, gently pulling his brother along behind him.

Jody unlocked the front door and she stepped inside. Dean took in the parquet flooring that spread from the front hall into the rest of the house and the light brown walls.

"Don't even bother with your shoes," Jody smiled and walked right in to the house. Dean tugged his brother along as he followed Jody.

The kitchen, with a yellow linoleum floor, was on the right side, just off of the foyer. Directly across from the entrance was the living room- the parquet floors and light brown walls were accented by chocolate-coloured plush furniture and dark-stained coffee table, end tables and TV cabinet.

"There are two guest bedrooms upstairs, a full bathroom and the master bedroom," Jody told the Winchesters, "And in the basement there's a second bathroom, a family room and a utility room."

The trio stopped in the middle of the living room and the Sheriff turned to the brothers, "I don't need to give you the grand tour, do I?"

Dean shook his head, "We'll find our way around."

Jody nodded, "If there isn't anything else, I better get to the station, let the boys know I'm back."

Dean smiled, "We can hold down the fort."

Jody inclined her head, "You two should get some rest. You look like you're going to pass out just standing there."

Dean rubbed the back of his neck. He looked at Sam from the corner of his eye. His brother didn't seem too receptive to the idea of sleeping, even though Dean could clearly see dark circles under his eyes.

Jody hesitated, "Will you two be alright alone?"

Dean sighed, "We'll just take some time to relax."

"Okay, please make yourselves at home," Jody said and hesitantly walked back outside.

Dean turned to Sam once the front door closed, "See Sam? This isn't so bad."

His brother didn't answer. Sam stared around the living room for a moment silently. Taking his younger brother's hand, Dean led him to one of the dark brown, corduroy-textured couches and had him sit down.

"I'll be right back," Dean promised his brother, "I'm just gonna grab our stuff from the car."

Sam raised a hand as if to stop Dean from leaving but his older brother had already turned away and didn't see him.

Dean strolled down the hallway and opened the front door, making sure that Jody's neighbour Gladys wasn't around, and stepped out onto the pathway.

Breathing deeply, Dean ruffled his short hair and fished his car keys from his jacket pocket. Walking around to the trunk of the Impala, Dean quickly unlocked it and grabbed his and Sam's duffel bag. Slinging both duffels over his shoulder, Dean slammed the lid of the trunk shut and opened the passenger door, grabbing the handles on either end of cooler and lifting it out of the foot well.

Kicking the car door shut gently with his foot, Dean marched back up the path and pushed the door open while still holding onto the blue cooler.

Walking into the kitchen, Dean emptied the cooler and placed the items into the refrigerator. He paused when he reached into the cooler and his fingers touched the crinkly paper of Dr. Plummer's prescription. Pulling the meds out, Dean stared at them for a moment. The white paper bag had been opened and Dean had placed the bottle of sleeping pills inside after taking them from the cabin.

Leaving the cooler on the counter, Dean searched the cupboards until he found the glasses and took one down. Filling it with water from the sink, Dean carried the cup and the bottle of sleeping pills out to the living room. Sam was still sitting on the couch, eyes closed but Dean knew he was still awake.

"Hey, Sammy," Dean sat down beside his brother. Sam opened his eyes and stared at Dean with his 'puppy-eyes' expression as soon as he saw the orange pill bottle.

Dean shook his head, "Don't look at me like that. You need to sleep and these will help you rest without nightmares for a little while."

He handed Sam the glass of water and opened the bottle of pills, shaking two out onto his palm.

"Unless you think you can sleep a full hour without having a nightmare," Dean commented, knowing he was being cruel but needing Sam to get some rest.

Sam shook his head and grabbed the pills from Dean's hand, swallowing them down quickly with a gulp of water.

"Happy?" He muttered angrily and crossed his arms over his chest. Dean raised a hand and squeezed his brother's shoulder. Sam turned to his brother and his expression softened so that only weariness showed on his face.

"Lie down, Sammy," Dean suggested, standing up, "You'll be more comfortable."

Sighing in exasperation, Sam did as he brother told him and settled down on the couch.

Dean was just about to turn away when he felt Sam's hand on his wrist, "Dean?"

"Yeah, Sammy?"

Sam stared up at his brother with large, wet eyes, "Do you think this is going to work?"

Dean let out a long breath, "I hope so, Sammy."

It had better work, Dean thought silently, because I have no more great ideas.

Sam nodded once and closed his eyes. Dean couldn't help but smile and he reached down to brush his brother's bangs away from his brow.

Once Sam's breathing was slow and deep, Dean moved back to the kitchen. He stared for a long moment at the prescription bag, filled with medicine that Sam has not yet taken, and leaned against the counter.

Running a hand through his hair, Dean looked upwards, speaking silently to a God who he knew wouldn't answer.

Please let this work, Dean begged, please. Sam needs this. One little break, just this once.

Sighing, Dean turned his attention to the refrigerator and smiled when he saw the beer bottles sitting in the far back, half-hidden behind a jug of orange juice.

Dean pulled one of the brown bottles out and twisted the cap off. He brought the mouth of the bottle to his lips and then frowned. Setting the beer on the counter beside him, Dean slouched and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands.

Abandoning his drink, Dean walked into the living room and sank down onto one of the brown upholstered chairs, close to the couch. Almost as soon as he was seated, Dean started to feel his eyes grow heavy and he realized just how tired he actually was. He guessed that worry for his brother and the relief of finally arriving at Sioux Falls had sloughed the exhaustion away for a while. Now that Sam was resting comfortably, Dean closed his eyes gratefully and was fast asleep in moments.

_SPN_

Sam startles awake, unsure of just how long he has been asleep. The stench of burnt flesh and sulfur coats his mouth and invades his sinuses, making him cough. His eyes dart around, fright clear on his face.

Pulling himself up weakly, Sam rubs at his eyes even as tears begin to pool in them.

He's sitting in bed in one motel room or another- he's been in so many he doesn't recognize this one- and apparently alone. Dean is nowhere to be found.

Frantic knocking makes Sam jump and he looks toward the door.

"Sam! Sammy! Open the door!"

Dean's voice has his brother up in seconds, crossing the spotty motel carpet until he stands right in front of the door.

"Sammy! Open the door!"

Sam cringes. The anger in his brother's voice is clear but so is the smell of the Pit. Sam knows this is just some sort of trick.

"Open the fucking door! Let me in!"

Sam doesn't know what he did to make Dean so mad and suddenly he's afraid to face his brother.

"Sam! Sam! Open the door! Open it! Open it! Now!"

The door shudders under a sudden massive weight and Sam shrinks back. Dean gives a strangled cry and falls silent.

Gazing down, Sam sees dark red blood seeping from underneath the door, soaking into the carpet.

"Dean!" Sam finally moves and wrenches the door open. No one is there. The sidewalk is empty and Dean is nowhere to be seen.

"Dean?" Sam whispers, his heart pounding in his chest.

Before he can close the door, shaking, Sam yelps when he feels a strong hand on his shoulder. Turning around, Sam sees his brother, whole and unharmed.

"Why didn't you open the door for me, Sam?" Dean asks in a flat, emotionless voice.

"Y-you're not D-Dean," Sam stammers and tries to back away.

Dean's grip on his shoulder tightens and Sam cries out in pain, "You're h-hurting me!"

"You didn't open the door for me," Dean tells him and shoves Sam outside, through the open doorway and onto the sidewalk.

Sam turns and finds the door slammed shut in his face. He hears the lock slide into place.

Tears begin to leak down Sam's face and he gazes warily out at the dark parking lot.

"Please," he begs, "Please don't do this… Please."

The sound of growling off to Sam's left sends terror slicing through his heart. He crouches down against the door, shaking, waiting.

"I'm sorry," Sam whimpers, "Please open the door."

The growling comes closer and Sam catches the scent of rotting meat. He reaches up and grabs the doorknob.

"Don't leave me alone!" he cries, knowing that it's not really his brother in the motel room but unable to stop the words from rushing out.

Sam cries out when strong jaws clamp onto his leg and pull him away from the door. He scrabbles frantically against the pavement and gasps when something slimy and wet nudges the side of his head.

"Pl-please," Sam begs and tries to crawl away, his mangled leg utterly useless.

Sam nearly makes it to the sidewalk in front of the motel room- a trail of blood following him- when he's bowled over and sprawls out, crying in pain and terror.

"I'm s-sorry! Dean!" Sam cries out desperately. Sharp teeth sink into the flesh of Sam's shoulder and fling him to one side. The momentum causes Sam to roll and he lands heavily on his stomach, blood seeping from the wound to turn the sleeve of his shirt a deep crimson.

Sam manages to pull himself onto his elbows and tries to get his legs underneath him, biting his lip against the pain in his injured leg as he attempts to put weight on it.

Hot, rancid breath blows Sam's long hair into his face, strands sticking to his cheeks with tears and sweat.

"Ple-please," Sam whispers, "D-Don't leave me o-out here."

A growling in Sam's ear causes him to flinch and the wet, slimy _something _nudges him again, this time against the side of his face.

"D-Dean, help me!" Sam cries out and the invisible threat rolls him over. Sam falls onto his injured shoulder and squeezes his eyes shut, waiting for the inevitable.

Razor-sharp claws pin Sam to the pavement, digging into his abdomen. Sam gasps and opens his eyes, the weight of the beast making it difficult to breathe.

The sound of boots striking asphalt is very loud in the parking lot and Dean's voice seems even louder.

"Leave him."

Sam struggles to move as the monster retreats, still growling threateningly.

"Dean!" Sam calls out at the sight of his brother approaching him.

Dean stops in front of Sam and crouches down.

"Y-you came b-back," Sam says as his brother looks over his wounds.

"I didn't come back for you, Sam," Dean murmurs and brushes Sam's hair away from his face, "I just didn't want to miss the show."

"No," Sam begs, "Please, Dean. Please… call them off. I'm s-sorry. I'm sorry I didn't save you."

His brother's expression is unsympathetic as he straightens up. Dean steps back and snaps his fingers together.

More growling and barking fills the air and Sam looks helplessly towards his brother. Dean doesn't even meet his gaze.

Sam screams when jaws clamp down on his already injured leg and jerk him away from Dean. A second set of jaws grab his shoulder and pull him in the other direction, straining his arm.

Lucifer smiles as he watches the two Hellhounds fight over Sam Winchester, the young man as helpless as a rag doll in their grasp. Blood splatters and drips onto the pavement, its coppery tang mixing with the scents of sulfur and burnt flesh. Sam's cries of agony and the growling of the hounds are the only sounds in the Cage.

Lucifer never tires of watching Sam die, of seeing the young man suffer and he supposes he never will. It was Sam's fault that he was locked back in his Cage after all; it was Sam's fault that he lost his chance to show his father He was wrong.

There is a wet tearing sound and Lucifer walks forward, raising a hand and the parking lot, motel and Hellhounds vanish. The Devil mends Sam, taking a moment to examine the young man's pale, bloodstained face.

"Are we having fun yet?" Lucifer whispers, already planning the next round of torture for his fellow prisoner.

Chuckling quietly, Lucifer sheds Dean's likeness, returning once more to Nick's visage and waits patiently for Sam to awake, humming quietly.

_SPN_

Dean woke with a grunt, peering around Jody's living room, confusedly. He immediately turned his attention to his brother; Sam's head shifting from side to side in agitation.

Pushing himself up from his chair, Dean walked the half dozen steps to his brother's side and crouched down.

"Sammy," Dean took hold of his brother's shoulder, "Wake up."

Sam's green eyes opened slowly and he scrambled into a sitting position as soon as they lit upon Dean's face.

"Whoa," Dean held his hands out, "It's okay. It was just a nightmare."

Sam wiped a hand over his face and his mossy eyes filled with tears.

"It didn't help, Dean," Sam muttered, "You said coming here would help but it hasn't."

Dean frowned, "Sam, we've only been here for a couple of hours… Jody isn't even back from the station yet. You have to give it time-"

Sam shook his head, "This isn't going to end, Dean. He's not going to go away."

Dean couldn't bear the hurt look on his brother's face and he reached forward but Sam turned away from him.

Sighing, Dean stood and walked back into the kitchen. Spying the now warm bottle of beer sitting on the counter, he grabbed a cold one from the refrigerator and cracked it open.

_SPN_

Jody knew something had happened between the Winchesters almost as soon as she opened the front door. The house was too quiet and it had lost its welcoming feel.

Stopping in the kitchen to set her things down, Jody saw the blue cooler from the cabin still on the counter and a room temperature bottle of beer beside the sink.

Scowling, Jody stepped into the living room and saw Dean sitting in one of the chairs, beer bottle in hand as he stared at the dark TV screen.

"Where's Sam?" Jody asked, seeing no sign of the younger brother.

Without looking at her, Dean answered, "Went for a walk."

Jody's mouth opened in surprised. The night before, at the rest stop, it had been clear that Sam was hurting badly and she didn't think he was in any condition to exert himself.

"How long has he been out?" Jody asked, suddenly worried for the young man.

Dean glanced at the sunburst clock on the wall across from him, "Half hour at the most."

"Does he have a cell phone? We should call him, make sure he's alright," Jody suggested but Dean shook his head.

Jody frowned. This wasn't like Dean. This was completely different from the caring, protective young man she'd seen last night, holding onto his younger brother as Sam cried in his arms.

"Well Dean Winchester, you can sit on your ass and feel sorry for yourself all evening but I am going out to find Sam," Jody snarled and the young man looked up, startled.

The Sheriff didn't wait for him to respond; she stormed out of the living room, grabbed her coat from the hallway closet and slammed the front door.

Jody paused on the porch, breathing deeply, waiting to see if Dean would come with her. Although she knew the nearby streets like the back of her hand- she jogged them all year in the mornings before going to work- she didn't know Sam as well.

Jody smiled grimly when she heard the door open behind her and the dull _thud _of Dean's boots on the porch.

"Did you happen to see which way he went?" Jody asked. Dean didn't answer and the Sheriff held back the urge to turn around and smack the hunter upside the head.

"Fine, I'll go right," she said coolly in light of the young man's failure to respond, "You go left. Call my cell if you find Sam, I'll do the same for you."

Jody walked across her lawn, the dry grass crunching underneath her boots and the weak sunlight barely warming her shoulders.

_SPN_

Lucifer kept pace with Sam as he trudged down the sidewalk, gaze locked firmly on the grey cement beneath his feet.

"This is your fault, you know," the Devil smirked but Sam shook his head.

"All you had to do was let me win," Lucifer continued, "I was going to make this world what is should have been, _would _have been without all you humans messing it up."

"Would you have let me go?" Sam asked quietly, although he was sure he knew what the answer was going to be.

"I wouldn't have treated you badly," Lucifer responded and Sam shivered involuntarily.

Sam sidestepped a child's tricycle and glanced up, meeting Lucifer's blue-eyed gaze.

"You would have failed," Sam told him, "Michael was too strong. He would have killed you."

Sam took a frightened step back when Lucifer's eyes turned hard and cold, like ice, hatred flaring up in their sapphire depths.

"Please," Sam began but the rest of the words stuck in his throat, rendering him mute.

_SPN_

Dean had failed. Again.

He wasn't really surprised. He was always failing somebody and most recently that person ended up being his brother. Sam looked up to him, trusted him and Dean- not matter how hard he tried- continually managed to let him down.

Dean knew he was overreacting. They had been at Jody's for barely four hours and if Sam _was _going to get better it sure as hell wasn't going to happen like magic. Dean knew it would take time- and probably a lot of trial and error- before Sam was comfortable. Still, Dean hated seeing that desperate hurt look in his brother's green eyes. He hated the unspoken _help me_ and _you're supposed to make it better _that never crossed his brother's lips but was so clear on his features every time Sam had a nightmare or hallucination.

Dean hoped that Jody really could ground Sam, that her presence would be a constant reminder that his brother was _not _in Hell, that Sam was safe. Dean hoped that this one last-ditch attempt at helping his sibling would work because he didn't think he would be able to withstand another failure. He didn't think he'd be able to see the disappointment on Sam's face one more time. If that happened, well, Dean wasn't sure he wouldn't follow through with the ultimatum he'd given Bobby- when he'd seen the charred remains of Singer Salvage and had feared the worst- all those months ago and strap his brother into the Impala and drive them both off a pier.

Despite his deep aversion to going down that path and putting Sam out of his misery, Dean couldn't deny that he _would _do it if his brother asked him to. Dean's heart rate raced at the thought of Sammy uttering those words but he knew that he would not be able to deny his brother if that ended up being his last request. Every fiber in Dean's being fought against raising a hand against his brother but Dean was out of options. If Jody couldn't help Sam, they would leave, Dean would drive them back to Whitefish- Rufus' cabin- where it was quiet and peaceful and…

No! Dean rebelled, God no! Even if Jody can't help I'm never doing that to Sammy!

Running a hand through his short-cropped hair, Dean breathed a watery sigh and squinted as he stared down the street. No sign of Sam anywhere. Where could he be?

I shouldn't have let him go, Dean realized. I should have stopped him from walking out that door. I should have forced him to stay; I should have forced him to talk to me.

Dean grimaced as memories were dredged up, other times when he should have stopped Sam from leaving and he felt his chest constrict painfully.

All Dean wanted to do; all he had ever wanted to do was protect his brother. Even before the fire that changed their lives forever, Dean knew he had a responsibility towards his newborn sibling. After Mary's death, after Dean had carried his tiny brother from the burning house, Dean never forgot that he was meant to keep Sam safe.

Dean rubbed a hand over his eyes tiredly; somewhere along the way protecting Sam had stopped being his first and foremost priority and had been put on the backburner, until it had culminated in Dean's apathy toward his brother's decision to jump into the Pit because _Sam wanted to. _

The eldest Winchester barked bitter laughter. If he'd been thinking about Sam, _really _thinking about him, he would have forbidden him from making such a decision. But Dean wasn't thinking about his brother, he was thinking about the six billion other people in the world… the six billion people who shouldn't have mattered more than his brother. Sam had gone to Hell because of him. Sam had been tortured for a hundred and eighty years because Dean hadn't been doing his job.

Dean swiped a sleeve across his moist eyes and sucked in a shaky breath. He had personal experience of Hell and he hadn't even really stopped to think about Sam in that place. Sure, he cracked jokes like he usually did but he hadn't tried to deter Sam from taking the swan dive. It had been Dean's fault that Sam went to Hell, willingly resigned himself to an eternity of torture without batting an eyelash. It was Dean's fault that Sam was now burdened with all these nightmares and hallucinations because he _hadn't _protected him.

It was Dean's fault and his mess to clean up and he was doing a shitty job of it. He wondered how Sam didn't hate him by now.

_SPN_

Jody sat somewhat uncomfortably in the passenger seat of the Impala, her eyes peeled for any sign of the youngest Winchester. After a half-hour of fruitless searching, Dean and the Sheriff had returned to the house and decided that they might find Sam faster if they took the car.

Dean drove slowly, silently as he stared out the windshield for any sight of his giant little brother.

"Can you think of anywhere Sam could have gone?" Jody spoke up, her voice tight yet hushed. She was still unimpressed with the eldest Winchester's behaviour although she felt sorry for Dean who was clearly scared for his brother.

Dean bit his lip. There weren't many places they were particularly fond of in Sioux Falls. Bobby's house had been one of them but now it was a ruin of charred wood and metal. There was a diner downtown that had great cheeseburgers that Dean went to at least once every time they came to Sioux Falls but he didn't think Sam would go there. Besides the local library and a small museum, the number of likely places Sam would be, was not large.

Dean shook his head. He looked down when Jody placed a warm hand on his arm and gave a comforting squeeze.

"You know, back there," Dean said in a slightly choked voice, a small smirk on his lips, "When you were chewing me out for sitting on my ass instead of looking for Sam, you sounded just like Bobby."

Jody blinked for a moment and then smiled.

_SPN_

Sam ran even though he knew that he had nowhere to run to. His lungs burned as he sucked in the foul air and his heart pounded fearfully in his chest.

Tears blurred his vision but he didn't pause, didn't even lift a hand to wipe them away. He couldn't slow down because then Lucifer would catch up with him. Who was he kidding? The fallen angel could stop this anytime he wished; he just liked watching Sam try and escape, running until he collapsed from exhaustion before swooping down like some demonic bird of prey.

Sam stumbled and went down hard on his hands and knees, a cry of surprise and pain escaping from between his parted lips. He panted for a moment, trying to gather up the strength to stand again, fear crashing over him in waves as his heart jumped in his chest and his brain urged him to run, no matter how futile the attempt would be. He closed his eyes tightly and curled his hands into fists, waiting. He couldn't do this anymore. He couldn't keep running. It never made any difference anyway, so why keep up the charade? Both Sam and Lucifer knew he wasn't ever going to get away.

Sam shivered as the temperature dropped, his breath turning to mist and the sweat turning chill against his skin. His breath hitched in his chest and he let out a whimper of terror. He looked up tiredly at the sound of footfalls and his muscles tensed in anticipation. Wiping a shaking hand over his face, Sam's eyes widened at the sight of the person walking towards him.

"Adam?" he whispered in disbelief and his younger brother smiled.

The young man had the same light brown hair as Dean- not cut as short as the eldest Winchester's though- and wide blue eyes. He was wearing blue jeans, black and white sneakers and a flannel shirt underneath an olive-coloured coat.

Sam hadn't seen either Michael or Adam since the plunge and he wasn't quite sure what had happened to the archangel and his vessel. Now, despite the chill in the air, Sam's felt warmth spread through his chest at the sight of his younger brother.

Sam waited until Adam was closer before speaking again. He didn't want to raise his voice and draw undue attention to himself- Lucifer was still out there, probably waiting for the right moment to attack- or to his brother.

"How did you get away from Michael?" Sam asked in a whisper as Adam crouched down in front of him.

Instead of answering the question, Adam looked Sam up and down, one side of his mouth turned up in a half-smile.

"You look terrible, Sam," he pointed out, not even bothering to keep his voice quiet.

Sam didn't disagree. His clothes were torn and filthy, his hair was matted with dried sweat and blood, he had grime underneath his fingernails and he was thin.

Adam, on the other hand, looked exactly the same as he had that day in Stull Cemetery. He didn't look at all like he'd spent years in the Cage.

Sam shuffled backwards on his knees, his heart beginning to pick up speed again as Adam continued to smile that strange, lopsided grin.

"Y-you didn't escape from M-Michael, did you?" Sam asked weakly and his brother shook his head.

"At first Michael was angry," Adam began, "He hurt me."

"I'm sorry," Sam whispered; his voice barely audible.

Adam shook his head, "I don't know how long he tortured me for but then he just stopped. He realized that none of this was my fault. I had done everything he'd wanted me to. I was innocent in all of this."

The younger man paused and Sam stared at his half-brother with pleading eyes.

"You, on the other hand," Adam began again, "are the reason I'm down here."

"It… It was an accident," Sam croaked, "That wasn't supposed to happen."

Adam's expression changed, his face twisting in anger, his mouth turning into a hate-filled sneer.

"Because of you I'm never going to see my mother again," the younger man accused.

"Adam, please listen to me," Sam begged, "The angels lied… do you really think that they'd let you go after they were finished with you?"

The younger man's expression turned haughty, "Michael said that after Lucifer was dead I could go back to Heaven. He promised me."

Sam shook his head, knowing that it was useless to argue with his brother.

"I'm sorry you got sucked into this mess," Sam tried to apologize again, "I never meant for anything bad to happen to you."

"How sweet," a new voice mocked and Sam flinched; Lucifer had arrived.

Sam looked frantically to his younger sibling. He had to get Adam away from here. Lucifer couldn't find him.

Too late. The Devil grinned wolfishly as he caught sight of Sam and the young man shuddered. Standing slowly, Sam refused to meet his enemy while on his knees- even though it wouldn't have been the first time- and stepped in front of Adam.

"Do whatever you want with me but leave Adam out of it," Sam said, sounding braver than he actually felt.

Lucifer tilted his head, "Leave Adam out? And have him miss all the fun?"

Sam's brow furrowed in confusion and then he gasped as hands grabbed him from behind, forcing him back onto his knees.

No, no, this was all wrong. Adam should be running away, escaping, not _helping. _

"Ah-" Sam started to say his brother's name and was rewarded with a kick in between his shoulder blades. The force of the blow caused Sam to jerk forward, hands stretched out to break his fall.

Hissing in pain as Lucifer grabbed a handful of hair and pulled his head up, Sam tried to blink away the tears that were welling in his eyes to no avail.

"Please…" Sam managed to wheeze out the one word, trembling with fear.

The Devil's eyes flicked away from Sam's face for a moment, his attention momentarily on Adam, before smiling down at the young man again.

Sam wasn't sure if his brother was really there or if it was just some new game Lucifer had thought of- maybe he had grown bored of pretending to be Dean- but decided that it didn't really matter because he was going to be hurt either way.

_SPN_

"Damn it!" Dean swore out loud and brought both fists down on the Impala's steering wheel.

They had been driving along the twisting, tree-lined streets around Jody's neighbourhood for almost twenty-five minutes.

Jody turned her sympathetic expression to the worried young man.

"Maybe we should go to the station and send out an APB-" the Sheriff began but stopped when Dean cut eyes at her.

"No," Dean growled. He wasn't so much angry as concerned. He didn't want the Sioux Falls cops to find Sam. His brother could be hallucinating for all he knew and they'd probably end up calling the white-suited men with butterfly nets.

Dean tried to think of where Sam could have gone; he was almost certain that his brother was no longer in the area.

"I think I know where Sam might be," Dean told Jody and she peered at him curiously.  
"Where?" she asked but Dean didn't bother answering. He made an illegal U-turn and sped down the street, heading away from the residential area for the local cemetery.

_SPN_

Sam was tied to the rack. Lucifer and Adam standing over him.

"Pl-please don't," Sam begged, his voice cracking with fear. The two ignored him as if he hadn't spoken. The Devil was at his head, stroking Sam's hair.

Adam watched from near Sam's feet, a superior smirk on his face.

Sam called out his younger brother's name, seeking mercy.

"I'm s-sorry," Sam whimpered, tears welling up in his eyes at the sight of the long, serrated blade Adam held in one hand.

"That doesn't change things, Sam," Adam chastised him, "That doesn't get me out of this hell-hole."

Sam gulped, "It w-was an accident."

The younger brother shrugged, eyeing the edge of the knife.

"I'm y-your br-brother," Sam pleaded desperately. Lucifer chuckled and Adam scowled.

"Half-brother!" The younger man snapped and Sam flinched at the anger in his voice.

Lucifer sighed as though he was becoming bored, "Enough talk."

Adam nodded and grinned sardonically, saluting the Devil with the knife and lowered the weapon toward Sam's right foot.

"No," Sam pleaded, "Don't… Adam… please…"

The young man didn't stop. Sam felt the cold blade press into his ankle and he bit his lip, trying to stifle his cry as Adam began sawing.

Sam howled in pain as the serrated blade cut slowly through skin and muscle, grinding against bone.

Lucifer grabbed Sam by the hair and pulled his head up, "Are you watching?"

Sam stared wide-eyed at his brother. Adam's hands were coated in crimson blood, _his _blood. It had splattered onto the younger man's face and shirt.

"He's a natural," the Devil informed Sam, sounding impressed.

_W_

Sam watched Adam through tear-filled eyes, his chest heaving with pain and fear. Sam hardly recognized the younger man. Adam was drenched in blood, a cruel smile on his lips and a malicious glint in his blue eyes.

In one hand Adam held the knife, in the other, he gripped Sam's wrist tightly. Too weak to fight, Sam watched as Adam easily pried his clenched fist open.

Adam lowered the knife once again and Sam cried out, his voice raw from screaming.

"You deserve this," the younger man hissed in his ear. Sam shook his head pathetically, tears streaming down his face.

"Please… stop," Sam choked out, his voice barely audible. Adam just laughed as raised the knife to eye level, smiling at the sight of blood coating the blade up to the handle.

_SPN_

Dean parked the Impala haphazardly inside the cemetery grounds and stepped out of the vehicle. It was still bright and fairly warm out- the sun just starting to make its downward descent- and the young man squinted against the glare.

Jody glanced at Dean somewhat skeptically but followed him as he took the first long-legged strides into the cemetery proper.

"Sam!" Dean's call startled the Sheriff, sounding out of place in the quiet, peaceful graveyard.

Trotting to keep up with the young man, Jody laid a hand on Dean's bicep, "We're going to Bobby's grave, aren't we?"

Dean smiled grimly, "You don't miss a thing, do you?"

Turning away, the eldest Winchester called out his brother's name again. He didn't know what he'd do or where he'd look if Sam wasn't with Bobby. Dean just hoped that his intuition was right and he wasn't wasting precious time.

Dean jogged down the paved walkway, heading toward the final resting place of his surrogate father and mentor, hoping that his brother would be there as well.

_W_

Dean picked up speed when he saw the red granite marker at Bobby's grave, his heart beginning to pound anxiously in his chest. A cool breeze blew his short hair and the young man actually shivered.

Had he done the right thing by bringing his brother back to Sioux Falls?

Dean shook his head and banished the thought from his mind. He didn't have time to mull over such things… he needed to find his brother.

Dean approached the grave from behind slowly, cautiously almost. He hoped that his brother would be there but also aware that there was a good chance that Sam wouldn't be. Jody stayed a few steps behind Dean, giving him space and he appreciated that. He was glad that she had followed him without question because Sam might need her now too.

"Sam?" Dean called out softly, not wanting to startle his brother.

Peering over the top of the red granite marker, Dean gave a sigh of relief. Sam was curled into a ball, his side pressed against the face of the gravestone and his face buried into the summer-green grass at its base.

Dean signaled to Jody and the Sheriff nodded. Dean crept to the front of the grave and settled down onto his knees before his brother.

Sam had his eyes closed but Dean knew he wasn't asleep. His breathing was shallow and rapid, his brow furrowed and his hands clenched into fists.

"Sammy?" Dean spoke his sibling's name quietly, imploringly.

"I'm s-sorry," Sam whimpered but didn't move.

"Sam," Dean tried again, "It's me… Dean."

"I d-didn't muh-meant t-to!" Sam answered; his voice slightly louder.

"I know you didn't, Sammy," Dean said soothingly, "It's my fault. I shouldn't have let you walk out."

"This wa-wasn't sup-sup… supposed to happen," Sam whispered and Dean sighed.

"No, it wasn't," the older brother mumbled to himself.

"Pl-please… st-stop…" Sam whimpered brokenly and Dean's eyes widened slightly.

"Sammy? Sam, c'mon," he reached out and touched his brother's shoulder. The muscles were as hard as stone but Dean could feel his brother trembling.

Dean leaned over, moving closer to his brother and reached out to brush Sam's hair away from his brow.

Dean frowned at the sight of a small cut on his brother's forehead. It wasn't even very deep or serious, more a scratch than anything but Dean wanted to kick himself for sitting on his ass in Jody's living room while Sam had gotten hurt.

Sure, today it could be a little scratch but what about tomorrow? Dean knew that if Sam was hallucinating he could easily walk out into the street and get hit by a car or something.

Tightening his grip on his brother's shoulder, Dean continued talking.

"Okay Sam," Dean murmured, "We're going to get you home and cleaned up, okay? I'll even see if Jody has some of that rabbit food you love, what do you say?"

Sam didn't reply, at least he didn't reply to Dean. He let out a terrified moan and started crying, choking on the sobs he tried to hold back. Dean could see that this hadn't been the first time Sam had been frightened enough to actually cry; his cheeks were damp with moisture.

"Sammy! It's okay! It's alright," Dean tried to make his brother hear him over whatever vision of Hell he was currently trapped in, "I'm right here. I'm not going to let anything happen to you."

Dean pulled at Sam's shoulders and managed to tug his brother up. Sam's stiff muscles prevented much movement and the younger man refused to uncurl his body.

Dean scooted over the grass until he was sitting directly in front of his brother, ignoring the grass stains on the seat of his jeans and knees and hugged Sam to his chest, resting the younger man's chin on his shoulder.

Dean bit his lip as he wrapped his arms around Sam's broad back and held him as close and still as possible.

The older Winchester jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder and saw Jody standing beside him; he had completely forgotten that the Sheriff was there.

Without saying a word, Jody settled down onto her knees and laid a hand on Sam's back, rubbing circles the way she used to do with her son if he wasn't feeling well.

Dean smiled slightly at the Sheriff and was glad that the cemetery was empty but for the three of them. Dean didn't think anyone would bother them though if they saw. He was sure that they'd just look like a small family comforting one another at the grave of a loved one.

That's what we are, Dean realized. He didn't really know when it had happened but Jody had become a part of his and Sam's family and Dean found that he couldn't imagine a future without her. Even if Jody couldn't help Sam, Dean knew that he wouldn't be going back to Rufus' cabin unless the Sheriff was with them.

The oldest Winchester silently thanked Bobby for introducing them to Jody and hugged his brother tighter to himself. Jody caught Dean's eye and she smiled back at the young man. Despite the situation, Dean was as happy as it was possible to be. He wasn't alone… Sam wasn't alone; they had a friend that would do anything for them and that knowledge meant the world to Dean.

Sighing, the oldest Winchester laid his chin on the top of Sam's head and stared at the Latin words carved into Bobby's gravestone, just below the veteran hunter's date of birth and death.

_Ab uno disce omnes_, Dean recited silently, 'from one, learn all.'

We did learn, Bobby; Dean thought, you were the one who taught us to keep going no matter how deep in shit we were. You were the one who taught us to keep hoping, to never stop believing that we could make a difference, no matter how small.

Dean blinked away the tears that were forming in his eyes.

Well, old man, here's to hope. Here's to hoping that for once I did something right, that I made the right decision.

Dean chuckled quietly as he imagined Bobby looking at him incredulously and calling him an idjit. The eldest Winchester closed his eyes and sucked in a deep breath when his brother began to stir feebly in his arms.

**Author's Note:**

**1. Chapter title comes from a song of the same name by Michael Kiwanuka.**

**2. Thanks to SPN Mum, sarah, Samstruck, BonanzaRocks, L.A.H.H, BranchSuper, mandancie, and TeamEtharaRules for reviewing.**

**3. Thanks to everyone who alerted, favourited, followed.**

**4. BonanzaRocks… your wish is granted. I'm going to write one final chapter for this story. I hope you enjoy. **

**5. Please leave a review! I love hearing from you!**


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